Blood of the People
by HerenyaHope
Summary: POST TRESPASSER: After discovering Solas' true identity and his plan, Nimwen must contend with the aftermath while taking care of her and Solas' young daughter, Lorien. However, change comes after a encounter with a mysterious elf who claims to know Solas' next move. As Nimwen and him chase down Solas, she finds herself learning more about Solas than she ever could imagine.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is owned by Bioware and EA games.

 **Warning:** There are **spoilers from** _ **Dragon Age: Inquisition: Trespasser**_ in this book, seeing as it takes place one month after the events of the DLC. **If you don't want to see them, then don't read this book**.

 **HenenyaHope:** -

 **Flamewing80:** I am one of the two writers working on this story. I write Solas, Mahvir, the two ravens, and a few odd characters here and there. Some of this story draws from my solo fan-fiction _Final Hour_ much like it draws from Henenya's solo fan-fiction _His Homecoming_. If you like this story please check out those two stories.

 **Both:** We hope you enjoy this story. Follows, favs, and reviews are loved.

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Chapter 1:

"Mama, why the sky blue?"

"It's what happens when the sun reflects on the rain droplets."

"But it sunny! No rain."

"There is always rain in the sky, _da'len_. Even if you can't see it."

Lori looked up at her mother, pouting. "That don't make sense, mama."

Nimwen chuckled. "There's a lot of things that may not make sense, Lori, but this doesn't mean they aren't real."

The two elves were enjoying a stroll outside the gates of Val Royeaux. After the Inquisition decided to serve the Chantry, Nimwen assumed her duties would lesson given she had less than half of her numbers left. The opposite was true, and unfortunately it left little time for the walks she and Lori enjoyed taking together. The toddler had been confused when she was told they were leaving Skyhold. It had been all she'd ever known, but Nimwen assured her that where they were going was going to be exciting and new. The sights and wonders of the city made for a much easier adjustment for Lori, perhaps easier than her mother's.

"Carry me, mama," Lori asked, tugging on the hand that held hers.

Nimwen stiffened. Just then a gust of wind passed over them. It made the sleeve of her stump arm flutter about, as if the winds were mocking her. Since she lost her arm it made once simple things difficult. She could still hold Lori, for the girl weighed next to nothing, but she had to be sitting in a chair in order to get the right grip. She could no longer kneel down and scoop the girl off her feet, like she had done a thousand times before.

"We can stop later if you're tired," Nimwen responded.

Lori sighed. "But I want you carry me." She looked up at Nimwen with wide, halla-eyes. "Please, mama?"

Nimwen swallowed. "Not right now, _da'len_. Maybe later."

Lori looked down. "Okay," she mumbled, disappointed.

The two continued to walk down the path, hand in hand, and Nimwen did her best not to let her child see the sadness in her eyes. A simple thing like being able to carry her daughter whenever she pleased was gone, just like her arm was gone. So many things were now gone.

The pathway they were on opened up into a beautiful clearing. On a bright, warm day such as this, it wasn't uncommon to see a few people out. However, today the clearing appeared empty at first glance. On a second glance, she saw a cloaked figure stood in the center of the clearing. The clothing looked like layers, upon layers of torn and tattered rags falling over even shabbier robes. All of the clothes were dark, shades of gray and black. In the figure's right hand was clutched a roughly carved staff. The staff didn't appear to be a magical one, but this didn't mean anything.

Soft sound came from the person. A whistle, lighter than the wind and just as elegant. The sound wove almost as words through the air. The next moment wings fluttered behind Nimwen. A raven flew over her, its talons grazing the top of her head. The bird gave an indigent sounding caw, eyes flashing at her before he twisted and flew over to the figure. The raven landed on the figure's shoulder, beak nipping at the edge of the figure's hood.

"Lookit, mama," Lori squealed, jumping up and down. "Pretty bird!" she said, pointing to the creature.

"Yes, pretty bird," Nimwen grumbled, rubbing her head where the bird swiped her.

Normally she would have brushed such an incident off, but her mood was already sour, not to mention the presence of her daughter had her maternal instincts kicking in. She marched over to the hooded figure, still holding Lori's hand.

"Excuse me?" she called, voice clipped but still civil. "I would appreciate it if you kept your bird under control, it swooped at my daughter and I."

The figure turned to her and bowed. "My apologies, my lady," his voice was smooth and elegant. By his height, he had to be an elf. "Fear tends to enjoy aggravating people whenever he can." The man turned his head to the bird. "Apologize to her."

The raven cocked his head, gave an almost arrogant sound as he flipped his wings.

"Apologize," the man's voice was a little more stern.

The raven looked at Nimwen, eyes the color of burning coals. Then the raven bowed its head to her, the caw it made was almost akin to an apology.

"It talk!" Lori said, taking her hand away from Nimwen to clap.

"He is a smart bird," Nimwen replied. It reminded her a bit of Baron Plucky and the rest of Leliana's birds. Visions of black feathers and the echoes of caws and fluttering wings filled her mind for the briefest of moments, and her heart panged.

"I pet?" Lori asked, reaching up.

"Lori, don't be rude," Nimwen said, taking her daughter's hand. "Sorry," she said to the elven man.

"It is for the best she doesn't. Fear doesn't tend to like people."

The raven snapped its beak as if to agree with the man.

A shadow passed over them. Another raven, this one a beautiful white, landed on the top of the man's staff. He looked up at it and it looked down at him. This raven's eyes were a crisp, icy blue. A color Nimwen had never seen a raven have before.

"Pretty," Lori said in awe. "What bird name?"

"This is Deceit." The man looked at them. "I named them after the legends of Dirthamen's two ravens."

Fear snapped his beak, indigent.

"Though, in hindsight, naming them after demons wasn't my brightest idea."

"Feefee, Deedee," Lori said pointing to the two birds.

Fear dropped his beak in utter shock. On the staff tip, Deceit gave several short caws which sounded an awful lot like laughter.

Nimwen chuckled nervously as she tried to get a read on this man. The only ones in Nimwen's experience who remembered the names of Dirthamen's ravens were Dalish, but she couldn't hear any hint of an accent on him. Also any man who would name his pets after fear and deceit could not be just an average elf. This man and his birds were different, and Nimwen found her curiosity piqued.

"Where did you learn of Dirthamen's ravens? It's not very well known."

The man's eyes crinkled a little to show he was smiling. In the shadows of his hood his eyes appeared black as the moonless night. "I've sought much of our People's lore. Spoken with those Dalish Clans willing to exchange knowledge and traveled most of southern Thedas. I learned of the ravens' names in an ancient ruin on the Exalted Plains."

Nimwen's blood ran cold. Those words, not the same and yet so familiar. It was like she was back in Haven, a lifetime ago, when she first sat down and had a discussion with-

"Mama?" Lori asked.

Nimwen blinked, drawn back to the present. "Yes, _da'len_?" she asked, looking down at Lori.

"You make face, arm hurt?" Lori asked.

Nimwen sighed. "No, no, my arm is fine. _Ma serannas_ , sweetie."

"My mama got hurt," Lori said to the stranger. "Now her arm gone and it hurt-"

"Lori," Nimwen shushed her, her cheeks warm. She'd rather her daughter not divulge her personal life to a stranger. "Sorry, Lori likes to share."

Fear nipped at the man's hood.

"As children should. An innocent heart is something to be thankful for, even in one so young." The man's eyes were soft as he looked down at Lori. He turned his dark gaze back to Nimwen. "Forgive me, my lady, I didn't mean to drag up old memories."

"No, no it's fine. Sometimes we can't help when things get brought up," Nimwen assured him. "My name is Nimwen," she said. "Who are you?"

"A far more interesting question than one realizes when asking." The man's eyes sparkled with a smile. "Who I am isn't a name, but if it is a name you seek, I am called Mahvir."

" _Aneth ara, Mahvir_ ," Nimwen said. In the back of her mind, the way he spoke reminded her of somebody.

"I Lori!" the little girl beamed. "Where you get birds, Mahvy?"

" _Andaran atish'an_ , Lori and Nimwen." Mahvir bowed his head. He then looked at the ravens. "I tricked them into my service," his voice was light. It almost sounded like he was joking and, in the same moment, he sounded serious.

Nimwen's eyes widened. "Pardon?"

"That not nice," Lori pouted. "Trick bad."

The man chuckled. "Forgive me, I tend to joke about such matters since that is how Dirthamen managed to get the original Fear and Deceit."

Fear snapped his beak, feathers ruffled and eyes blazing.

Deceit prenned.

"Aunt Lilly had birdies," Lori said. "She let me pet."

"Lori, he already said you can't pet them," Nimwen reminded the girl. Lori puffed her cheeks, and gave a tiny, frustrated scowl that reminded Nimwen so much of-

' _Stop it,'_ she chided herself.

"Why I no pet them?" Lori asked Mahvir. "They no like pet?"

The man hesitated and looked from Lori to the birds. "Ravens are carrion birds," he started. "Their very nature is to be aggressive, _mean_. These two more than others. I don't even try to pet them."

"And, yet, they seem so well behaved," Nimwen joked, looking at the two birds perched on their master.

Fear fluffed out his feathers, looking almost proud on Mahvir's shoulder. Deceit shook out its feathers and gave a short caw to Fear. Fear cawed back, feathers now fluffed in rage rather than pride.

"If you two want to fight, take it elsewhere," Mahvir told the birds. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "They're worse than siblings, I swear."

Nimwen chuckled. "Have experience?" she asked.

He grimaced. "More than I care to admit." He looked at them, eyes crinkled in a smile once more. "My apologies Fear disrupted your walk, my lady."

"It's fine, city life has been a bit dull I'm afraid. If it takes a raven swooping on me to liven things up, I'll take it," Nimwen said. "So, what brings you to Val Royeaux?"

"News," was all he said in reply.

"Good or bad?" she inquired.

"In general. Spending so much time alone in the wilderness cuts one off from the day to day happenings of society. The last time I managed to get an update was when the Breach was still in the sky, some two years ago now."

"Beach!" Lori exclaimed. "Mama beat beach."

"It's _Breach_ ," Nimwen corrected her.

"My mama a hero," Lori grinned up at Nimwen, pride in her little face.

The mage smiled back, her heart warm.

"A rare and noble title to have, especially when given from one's child," the man stated. "There are too few heroes in the world and too many out for their own gain."

Deceit snapped its beak.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Nimwen replied. "And for those who aren't corrupted, the world changes its mind about them. You're their Herald one minute, and then they want you gone the next." She rubbed her forehead. "Sorry, I can't believe I'm saying this all to a stranger."

The man's gaze was sad. He bowed his head. "It's quite alright, Lady Nimwen." He looked up at Deceit.

The raven cocked its head before launching into the air. A rustle of feathers and the bird soon vanished into the distance. Fear remained perched on Mahvir's shoulder.

"I hope we may meet again." He bowed his head to her, causing Fear to caw in annoyance and flap his wings to remain on his perch.

"As do I," Nimwen replied, giving him a small smile. She looked down at Lori. "Come on, _da'len_ , we had better get back before your Aunt Cass throws a fit wondering where we are."

Lori giggled. "Aunt Cass funny."

"Not when she's fussing," Nimwen responded. She went to take Lori's hand.

"Nu-uh, I want carry, you promise," Lori said.

Nimwen groaned. She would have, but there was nothing in the clearing to sit on, and if she sat on the ground there was no way she could get back up with Lori in her arm. "I'm sorry, Lori. Maybe some other time."

"If it isn't overstepping and you would permit, I could pass you the little one," Mahvir said from where he had been watching them.

Nimwen blinked. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all." He eyes sparkled with the smile.

"W-well, I don't see...sure," Nimwen stuttered.

"Yay!" Lori cheered.

Mahvir lowered his staff to the ground as he knelt. Fear snapped his beak and took off, landing on the ground nearby to watch them with eyes akin to flame.

Nimwen watched as Mahvir carefully picked up Lori and stood. He helped Nimwen get a hold of the little girl and only stepped back when Nimwen's grip was secure.

Nimwen felt content once Lori was in her hold. It was a little thing that made it feel like things were back to normal: almost. "Thank you," she said to Mahvir. "You are very kind."

"My pleasure." Mahvir bowed to her. He knelt and picked up his staff. The moment he was upright, Fear returned to his shoulder in a fluttering of black feathers. "I wish you well, Lady Nimwen, _da_ 'Lori." His eyes showed a softness of a smile. Then his gaze turned to the sky, his attention no longer on them.

"Come on then, _da'fen_ , time to go home," Nimwen said to Lori.

"We go back Sky?" Lori asked.

Nimwen's smile faultered. "No, no, Lori. Val Royeaux is home now, remember?"

Lori frowned. "Nuh-uh. Home is castle, with everybody."

"Come on, Lori. Aunt Cass is waiting," Nimwen said quietly. She looked back to Mahvir. " _Dareth shiral, lethallin._ "

Mahvir looked at her and bowed his head. "Safe journey, _da'len_."

Nimwen turned away from the clearing, the dreaded Val Royeaux looming over her. Lori was right. Even if she remained there for the rest of her days, the Orleasian capital would never be their home.


	2. Chapter 2

Mahvir watched the two until they vanished from his sight. A soft tap of talons on wood warned him moments before the sound became reality. Sure enough, when he looked up, Deceit had returned to her perch.

"There was nothing around," she informed him, icy eyes locked on him.

"I know," Mahvir stated. "Follow them, Deceit."

The raven bowed her head before taking off after the two elves.

"You're letting them go with only Deceit to watch them?" Fear snapped his beak. "Your heart is uneasy with fear for their future. More fear for the two of them than for the rest of the People. It's like with _her_."

Mahvir shot the raven a sharp look. " _She_ died a long time ago." He started off towards the city, his pace slow and staff pressing into the ground with each step he took. His bare feet soon touched the smooth roads of Val Royeaux. The sun was setting in the distance by the time he entered the city proper, unnoticed by the guards and most of the citizens, a trick he had become quite good at over his long life.

"They're fear is tainted, silly, petty matters," Fear's voice clicked as whispers in Mahvir's ear.

The raven sounded disgusted, but he knew all too well these fears Fear adored the most. He loved to play off them and to see the disrot in the eyes of nobles.

"Why are we really here?" Fear asked at length as the city fell to sleep around them. "For his love or for your own curiosity?"

Mahvir didn't reply.

Fear clicked his beak and shifted his wings in annoyance. "The answer will be clear to me in time. You can't run from me or from the truth."

Mahvir stopped before a statue of Andraste and knelt down near to it, hidden in the shadows. "Perhaps," he whispered to the raven. "And perhaps not. You can only see the fears I let you, _Pet_."

Fear's talons pinched the thick layers of cloth on Mahvir's shoulder. His head tossed to one side to show his rage at the title. "If I wasn't bound to you," the raven started to threaten.

"You would be dead," Mahvir stated as he pulled out a loaf of bread he had managed to steal on the way here. He tore into it, passing Fear pieces as he ate for the raven too eat.

The night was cool, almost silent. A few stragglers were seen hurrying home or being carried through the city in extravagant carriages. Mahvir watched and waited. His contact from the Inquisition would meet him here in the morning. He saw no need to move from this spot.

Fear pulled at his hood. "More."

Mahvir sighed and passed the raven the remains of the pathetic meal. "You should've been called 'Greed' not 'Fear,'" he teased the raven.

Fear snapped his beak and settled deeper down onto Mahvir's shoulder for the night.

Soon the night would give way to day. And he would see the Inquisitor again, instead of as a stranger, as an informate. He sighed. " _Why do you seek the past and never the future_?" he whispered the question in elven.

The first moments of heat returning to the world marked the start of a new day.

"Sir."

Mahvir stood. A human was standing before him. "Morning, my lady." He bowed his head to her. She wore the clothes of an agent of the Inquisition. "You wouldn't happen to be Rhian, would you?" he knew the answer before he asked it. After all he had known the girl for most of her life.

"Aye, and we both know who you are," she replied. She had dark caramel skin, and the little of her hair that could be seen under her hood was black and spiraled. She had a scar that ran across her nose, just under her hazel eyes. Nobody would have suspected her as an elf-blooded human, even with her high cheekbones and eyes that were rounder than most humans. This made her perfect as Mahvir's spy. "Safe journey, my lord?"

"Safe enough," he replied.

"What do you need?"

"A meeting with the Divine's Inquisition," Mahvir told her. "I believe it's time those groups conspiring against the end of world pull information, do you not?"

"Agreed," Rhian replied, smirking. "So, what shall I tell the Inquisitor? I doubt you want me using your real name."

"Tell her Mahvir has information she will find useful."

"And where should she meet him?"

"The upper market," Mahvir said without hesitation. "It is a safe enough place she won't feel this could be a trap and private enough we can discuss what needs to be discussed without prying ears."

"Very well." Rhian put her fist to her chest and bowed. "It shall be done, my lord."

" _Ma serannas, da'len_." Mahvir bowed his head to her. He watched her go before he turned to the statue of Andraste. Without a word he laid a single red rose by the foot of the statue before he headed for the upper market. His progress was slow as he moved through the crowd, keeping to the edges to remain unnoticed by the nobles. Only those elven servants who knew who he was noticed his passing.

Mahvir stopped in the upper market, leaning against his staff. His breathing uneven and chest tight. It took him several long moments to regain his breath.

Fear shifted on his shoulder but was otherwise quiet, for once.

Soon Mahvir could see a familiar elf making her way towards him. She was no longer dressed in the simple dress he saw her in the other day. She wore a coat of dark blue, august ram leather with an undershirt made of silk brocade. The sleeve on her left arm had been hemmed, stopping below her stump.

"I didn't think I would be seeing you again so soon," Nimwen said, half amused, half suspicious. "Given what my agent told me, you have information I would be interested in?"

"It was for the best not to sour such a beautiful day as yesterday with dark news. Especially before a child," Mahvir said in way for greeting to her. "Forgive my not being forthcoming." He bowed.

Fear screeched his rage at the movement, flapping his wings.

"There's that aggression you mentioned," Nimwen said, eyeing the bird. "So running into you the other day, not so much of a happy coincidence?"

"It depends on if you believe in coincidences or not," he replied. "In my experience most events happen for a reason. The reason is sometimes unclear, but there is a reason."

"Some, perhaps, but I believe in coincidences. I have to. Otherwise I would have to admit that the universe must really hate me."

"I doubt the universe hates anyone." Mahvir smiled as he lowered the cloth covering his face.

Nimwen raised a brow, making her blue _vallaslin_ wrinkle. "Not Dalish after all," she said.

"I am no less of the People simply because I refuse to mark my face," Mahvir replied. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of the pain he would go through having the tattoos placed on his face.

"Somebody's jumping to conclusions," Nimwen said. "I never claimed I believed you any less of the People, I've just found elves who are learned in our history outside of the Dalish are small in number. As for marking our faces, I assure you I would rid myself of these marks if I could. However the one person I know who could do it is not here at the moment. So, back to business, what do you have for me?"

"Information on the one person you spoke of." Mahvir gave her as gentle a smile as he could. His heart twisted a little. He wished he had Solas's magical ability so he could rid the marks of slavery from the People. But his abilities in such matters were so weak it wouldn't have even faded the marks. Outside of wielding a staff and few tricks, he was far from a mage.

Nimwen's eyes narrowed, their icy color sharp. "What do you know of him?" she asked, voice low.

"Quite a bit, but most of it has little do with why I came." Mahvir knew she had been hurt too much by Solas for this to be easy, but he wasn't going to lie to her face either. Nor was he going to bluntly state everything. It was a delicate situation and he could easily be casted as the enemy instead of an ally. "Many of the People wish to rise back to power, but others disagree with Solas's methods. Those who do, came to me with information. I, alone, can do nothing to stop him and, thus, upon learning of his ties with the Inquisition, I came here in hopes we could pull our knowledge and stop him before it's too late for everyone."

"And why did the People go to _you_ with this information?" Nimwen asked. "Who are you to them?"

"A beacon when times were at the darkest for our People. But, I fear, my light has long since faded from memory into legend."

"That doesn't quite answer my question," Nimwen retorted. "Tell me who you are and what is your connection to Solas?"

Mahvir sighed. There was no getting around it. "Tell me what do you know of how our People won the Dales one thousand years ago? I hear the chant has recently reinstalled those pieces to it."

"The _shem_ prophet Andraste had an elven ally, Shartan," Nimwen said. "When they were both burned, her sons granted the People the Dales, that is until they took it back centuries later."

"Every age has a Shartan. One of the People who shows the rest there is a hope for the future. I am the one who they came to and it is the reason I took the name Mahvir." It was part of the truth. Mahvir didn't want to explain how it was he had lived for a thousand years, not until she wouldn't stab him for it. "I live for the future of our People."

"So, what can you tell me to help them?" Nimwen asked.

"Solas's movements," Mahvir informed her, face straight. "Where he is going, his plans, and more."

Nimwen went to cross her arms, but her eyes widened when her stump slipped. " _Fenhedis_ ,"she cursed under her breath. She shook her head. "Nevermind, what can you tell me. Where is he, what is he planning?"

"You know he plans to bring back Elvhenan and, in doing so, it will destroy this world, along with the majority of the people, including his own followers. Currently, my informants tell me he spends much of his time within the crossroads. We have a few years before he can figure out a way to physically enter the Fade, but that is little time for us and for all the peoples of Thedas."

"How do you think he plans to do it, make another Anchor?" Nimwen asked.

"He took pieces of the Anchor you held, but another full Anchor will take him those years to craft and a far greater amount of magic than what he currently holds. He has agents searching through some of the ruins you two discovered for any information on the location of other elvhen artifacts which hold pieces of a key to another full Anchor."

"It will take much power to match that of the _foci_. A new Anchor will cost him much. An arm or a leg perhaps," Nimwen said with a bitter chuckle. "I am not in a position to go digging through ruins, but I may be able to find people willing to go. Give me a location and I shall send them on their way."

Mahvir frowned. He was certain Solas would have told his love he wouldn't be affected by the Anchor. Instead of pointing this out, he held up his hand. "My information comes with a price. I wish to join your group. Together we can move faster than alone. My informants added to your forces under the Divine."

"I suppose I am in no position to refuse your help, even if that's what I wanted." Nimwen extended her hand. "No matter who we serve, the Inquisition welcomes any help it gets."

"My thanks." Mahvir took her hand. "Perhaps together we can show an ancient elf our world is worth saving and fighting for."

For the first time since she arrived, a small smile appeared on Nimwen's face. "Perhaps we can," she agreed.

 **FW:** Mahvir is an interesting character. While he seems blunt, I promise, he keeps a lot more hidden of himself than he shows. It's been fun writing him and getting to know his character. I really hope you guys like him. By the way, if you are reading my fan-fiction Final Hour, this Mahvir is in that story as well, but he isn't going by the name Mahvir. Keep reading to learn more.

 **HH:**


	3. Chapter 3

**Shout outs go out to: MidnytLove** **,** **phantomkittykat** **,** **fleagirl125** **, and all other supporters of this story!**

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Chapter 3:

Nimwen passed through the crowds, Mahvir following close behind. The Grand Cathedral would soon be in view, and despite the elf's less than favorable opinion of Val Royeaux, she still found the building impressive. "Have you ever been in the Grand Cathedral, _lethallin_?" she asked Mahvir.

"No," he replied, voice distant. The word had been spoken with a breathlessness behind it and he moved slow. Several times Nimwen had to slow down to match his pace.

"It's quite beautiful," Nimwen said, eyeing Mahvir with curiosity. "One of the few things in Val Royeaux that is actually worthy of lavishness." Her brow furrowed. "Are you all right?" she asked, noticing the fatigue on his face.

He managed to give her small smile, but didn't otherwise speak. He pulled out a plant from one of the pouches at his belt. Nimwen recognized it at once as one which was used for elders in her clan to ease breathing during the colder months. Mahvir placed the tip of the plant in his mouth.

"Is something wrong with your breathing?" she asked, concerned.

Both his eyebrows rose. "You're the first to recognize the plant," the words were quick as if he was struggling for air. "My breathing is poor," he explained.

"Do you need to sit down?" she asked. She stopped walking and turned around to face him. "We can take a break, nobody is going anywhere," she assured him.

"You are too kind, my lady." He stopped as well and leaned against the wall. He took out another few plants and started to mix them together in a bowl. Each one Nimwen recognized as something the Keeper had been teaching her to help strengthen the elders for long journeys, breathing, pain, and more.

"Come, there's a bench right over there," she said, pointing to the stone seating nearby. She knew his condition had to be serious, given how short a distance they'd walked before his breathing started to act up. She would feel more at ease once he was sitting down.

"This is all I need." He held up the bowl. "I am not here to be a burden upon you, Inquisitor. I've lived with this most of my life." He lowered his hood before he downed the bowl's contents. It was then Nimwen saw just how young he was. He couldn't have been more than three or four years older than her. His black hair chopped to shoulder length part of it bound back back from his eyes. His eyes were a dark, rich purple.

"You'll be more of a burden if you pass out," Nimwen said with a roll of her eyes. " _I'm_ going to sit down. Feel free to join me." She strode over to the bench, well shaded beneath an apple tree. She sat down and crossed her legs, looking at Mahvir to see what he'd do.

A small sigh escaped him. After a moment, he joined her on the bench. Fear snapped his beak a little and hopped down to rest on Mahvir's leg. The long beak of the raven then nibbled at Mahvir's black gloved fingers.

"Greedy thing." Mahvir pulled out a few bread crumbs.

The raven snapped them up faster than one could blink.

"See, isn't this nice?" she teased gesturing to the scene. "Even your bird approves."

"Fear wasn't even doing any work." Mahvir gave the bird a playful glare. It was easier to relax after seeing his face and just how young he really was. "Human cities are very different from one another," he mused. "I will confess I've only been to Val Royeaux once before."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to them," Nimwen admitted. "There are some advantages; a market with food available everyday, permanent shelter, books-I love the books. But so many people! I still can't believe so many people can live in one place," Nimwen shuddered. "Sometimes I forget what it was like back with my clan. Then I go to Val Royeaux, makes it easier to remember," she chuckled.

"There are places in human cities far more packed than this. The Imperium's slave pins for one," he stated as he mixed more of the herbs together. There was already a notable difference in his voice and breathing.

"I don't know if I'd ever want to go to Tevinter," Nimwen said. "Though, I may someday. I have a friend there and I swore I'd visit him." Nimwen felt a tightness in her chest. It had only been a month since Dorian left for the Imperium, and already she missed him. They had spoken everyday using the messenger crystals, but there was something about not being able to see him, or hug him, that had the elf missing her best friend even more.

"It wouldn't happen to be the new magistor I've been hearing about, is it?" Mahvir asked before he drank the bowl and made a face.

"Yes, that would be him," Nimwen replied. "Still can't believe I have to call him Magister Pavus, though the minute he commands me to call him that I'm burning his mustache."

"A magistor friendly to one of the People." Mahvir had a sad smile on his face as he looked at Fear. "The future might be closer than we think where our People can walk on equal footing with the humans once more."

"It might just be, though the only reason anyone bothered with me was because my hand glowed." Just as she mentioned it, Nimwen winced, the end of her stump arm aching. Ever since she lost her arm she would get bouts of pain where the bone ended. The worst though, was when she thought she could feel her fingers, but when she looked down all she saw was empty space. _'You're gone, but you still cause me pain,'_ she thought, trying to keep her composure when her arm throbbed.

"Both of us are not even physically thirty yet, and already in poor condition. Quite a pair we make to take on an ancient, immortal elf," Mahvir's voice was sad. "Though, the Inquisition follows you still and the People see something in me, who knows what, but they do."

Nimwen laughed, a sad, hollow laugh. "Oh, yes, they follow. They have a crippled, elven, mage woman who has yet to reach her twenty second birthday and with nary a clue what to do, and still they want me to decide their fates. What a life I lead, huh, Mahvir? What about you, did you take up leadership out of passion, or did fate drop it in your lap and wish you good luck?"

"There is no such thing as luck," he started and looked across the way. "In part, it was dropped on me. I saw my People suffering at the hands of Tevinter mages, I suffered the same as they did. I decided enough was enough and managed to trick our master. We fled across the south. And thus the People saw me as akin to Shartan. And word spread among servants and slaves until it is what I am known as."

"So, when you spoke of Tevinter slave pins, you spoke from personal experience?"

"Yes." He lifted his gaze to the sky. "But it is in the past. While the past is something we should never forget, it isn't something we should strive to cling to at the cost of the future. I will not wallow in the pain or the loss, rather strive to make each day one where the People can live free of chains."

"I wish I had your strength," Nimwen whispered. "I'm just so tired." Her winter eyes glanced up at the branches of the tree above them. "They are so pretty, aren't they?" she asked, looking at the bright red apples hanging. She lifted her hand and from the tip of her index finger sprouted a small spiral of frost. It gently floated up until it hovered next to an apple. It then stretched and severed the apple from the tree by its stem. As it tumbled down, Nimwen caught it in her palm. "There are three things I like about Val Royeaux," she said. "Its books, its frilly cakes, and," - she bit into the apple with a sharp crunch - "it's apples."

Mahvir laughed. His laugh was soft as the whistle he had made to call the ravens the other day. "I will have to look into these books you speak so highly of." He stood.

Fear screeched and took to the sky before circling around and landing on Mahvir's shoulder.

"As for my strength, it took a great deal of time to heal wounds of betrayal to find what I live for." He looked at her, his dark, purple eyes locking onto hers for the first time. The amount of knowledge and pain reflected there was far deeper than she had seen in even Solas's gaze. "We all must find the one thing we live for: whether it be our People or our family. It's out there even if you can't always see it."

His words cut deep into her. It made her think of Lori, who was back at the Cathedral in the quarters given to them by Leliana. Her daughter was the main reason Nimwen forced herself out of bed everyday. She only had to think of her smile, her laugh, her constant questions, or her sweetness and the weight on her shoulders felt just a bit lighter.

" _Ma serannas_ , Mahvir. You are wise, much wiser than I."

"You don't give yourself the credit you deserve, Lady Nimwen. We are all capable of great wisdom and stupidity. Age doesn't make one wise, experiences do. You've experienced enough in your twenty-one years to make you wiser than most." He held out his hand to her. "Who else is going to wise enough to tell me I need to take to break?" He smiled at her. His smile warm and welcoming. The pain in his eyes had vanished the moment he smiled.

Nimwen chuckled. "That is less about me being wise, and more about me being a mother. You reminded me of Lori when she refuses to take a nap when she is nearly asleep on her feet." She smiled.

Throughout her words it looked as if Mahvir was about to start laughing. When she finished he doubled over, laughing hard.

Fear launched into the air once more shrieking his protest to Mahvir's movement. The bird landed on Mahvir's head and peaked him.

"Away with you!" Mahvir snapped, laughter dying as he shooed the bird.

Fear landed on the bench beside Nimwen, feathers puffed out and eyes flashing.

Nimwen held her hand to her mouth as she snickered. "Careful, he means business," she warned Mahvir. She looked at Fear. "Have mercy, oh, Feathered one, he meant no offense."

Fear snapped his beak a few times looking as if he was going to actually speak. Then the bird turned his beautiful head to Mahvir, eyes blazing with more rage than before. He spread his wings and took the sky.

"I believe we just hurt a raven's pride." Mahvir chuckled.

"Poor thing," Nimwen smirked. She looked to the other elf. "Are you all right? With all that laughing, I wouldn't be surprised if you were out of breath again."

"We've delayed meeting your allies long enough." He did sound a little out of breath. "I can rest when reach our destination." He looked towards the sky. It wasn't in the direction Fear had gone, rather towards where the scar from the Breach was.

"You're right. We had best get going before Cassandra sends for a search party," Nimwen said with a shake of her head. She stood up, tucking the remainder of her apple away in her bag. "Shall we get going?"

Mahvir bowed his head and gestured for her to take the lead.

"All right, ready to meet the Divine?" Nimwen asked.

"You make it sound like a simple matter, but, yes."

"I promise she doesn't bite, not all the time at least," she said with a wink. She started down the path once more, leading Mahvir towards the Grand Cathedral. The throbbing in her arm had faded some, and Nimwen felt a sense of purpose she hadn't felt since she woken up from the Crossroads.

It took the pair over an hour to get across the Cathedral's courtyard. Mahvir's breathing was so bad that he started wheezing after a few minutes of walking at a normal pace. For most people this only acted up when running; yet, walking was causing him problems.

"We can keep going," he instead the third time this happened.

Nimwen was unsure, and she wanted to make him stop again. However, they were close and she felt like he would only grow more frustrated if she told him to stop. So she remained quiet, but was silently watching him. If he got any worse, she would then demand they take another break.

When they reached the entrance, Mahvir stopped and leaned against the wall. A thin layer of sweat covered his face and he was shock white. His breathing was low, uneven, and pained. "Forgive me," was all he managed to say. The words were so hushed the only reason Nimwen could hear them was because of how close she stood.

"Are you all right?" she asked, worried. She put her arm around him, letting him lean on her. "You look like you're about to pass out."

His lips twitched in a thin smile. "I'll live." He straightened and started forward once more, all of his weight now on his staff.

Nimwen hovered close, flashing back to when Lori first started to walk. "We don't have to meet with them right this instant," she assured him, eyeing his feet for fear he would slip. "You are allowed to rest, _lethallin_."

Mahvir stopped and bowed his head. The moment he stopped, his free hand moved to his chest.

"Mahvir?" Nimwen felt her heart race. "Mahvir, listen, if you're all right and you're just winded, nod yes. If there is a problem nod no, and you had better not lie," she said in what everyone liked to call her 'mom' voice.

After a moment, he shook his head. She had moved close enough that she could hear the thinness of his breathing. His hand moved from his chest to his bag. The movement made him stagger into the wall. He slid to the floor, eyes still open but he was sitting up, breathing still thin. He pulled out a vial from his bag. With his teeth he removed one glove before he dipped his long fingers into the container. He spread the poultice on his throat. The movement pulled down his tattered scarfs neckline to reveal thin, nasty scars covering the left side of his neck. His hand was pale, the same scars lacing his fingers and hand. It was the same as the scars Nimwen had seen on people who had been burned.

At once his breathing eased. "Forgive me," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I sometimes forget I can't last as long as I used to."

"It's fine," Nimwen said, her eyes still drawn to his marred skin. "Just so long as you are okay."

He followed her gaze to his hand. Then he replaced his glove, hiding any signs of the burn. "I'll live. I'll always live through it. People can live through just about anything."

' _Yeah like having your arm melt off,'_ Nimwen thought to herself. "Can you stand?" she asked, offering her hand.

"Give me a moment." After a few minutes, he used his staff to pull himself up. "Can we walk slower this time? I am sorry, but I don't think I can handle a normal pace right now."

"Of course," Nimwen said, her voice gentle. "You just let me know when you need help, okay?"

He managed a weak smile. "My thanks. You've a kind heart, Lady Nimwen."

Nimwen blinked. "I...thank you." More and more she found there was something about this Mahvir… it was like there was a thread, spider's silk really, between them, and the more he spoke the more she felt it tug. There was more to this man than he let on, and Nimwen was determined to learn more. The matter at hand, however, was getting him to Leliana before he passed out. "Come along then, we have a Divine to meet with. She's usually in her office around this time." she said.

He nodded. The two of them started off down the hall at an almost excruciatingly slow pace. He kept one hand on his staff and the other out for balance. Nimwen felt relief when the door to Leliana's office was in sight. She and Mahvir stopped when the two guards posted outside the door stepped forward.

"We are here to speak to Divine Victoria," Nimwen said.

"Her Perfection asked that nobody disturbed her, she is quite busy," one of the guards said.

Nimwen raised a brow. "Did her requests specify that the Inquisitor was not allowed in her office?"

The second guard coughed. "N-no, she said everybody was-"

"Gentlemen, I am certain that the Divine will tell you that I am _not_ everybody. Now please, I would like to speak with her."

"And who is this?" the first guard asked, pointing to Mahvir.

"Me? I'm nobody." Mahvir smiled at the guard.

"And therefore is not 'everybody.' Are we clear?" Nimwen asked, flashing a smile.

The guards exchanged nervous glances, but in the end they parted and allowed Nimwen to open the door. "Thank you. Come on, Mahvir."

"It's 'Nobody,'" he corrected, joking. He passed the guard his staff. "So you needn't think I am here to do Her Perfection harm." He limped after Nimwen.

Inside, in the most lavish office Nimwen had ever been in, sat Leliana at an ornate Dragonthorn desk, a mountain of paperwork before her. "Hope none of that is too important," Nimwen said as she and Mahvir walked inside.

"It is, but I have a feeling you have something more important," Leliana replied, her blue eyes on Mahvir. "Who are you?"

"I am Mahvir," he said with a bow of his head. "It is an honor to meet you, your Perfection, Divine Victoria. I came to the Inquisitor with information to aid your search for the ancient elf Solas."

"Here, sit down," Nimwen said, pointing to one of the plump chairs in front of the Divine's desk. "Do you have any tea, Leliana?"

"Over there," the redhead replied, gesturing to a pot on a nearby table.

"Good, I need some," Nimwen sighed, making her way over.

"So, Mahvir, was it?" Leliana asked. She folded her hands together. "What sort of information do you have about Solas?"

Mahvir remained standing. "I can provide the Inquisitor and yourself, your Perfection, with detailed information on his movements. I have no military force to act on this information and, thus, believed it to be wise if our two groups pooled knowledge in order to," he hesitated and Nimwen felt his eyes shift to her, "convince him our world is worth keeping."

With tea in hand, Nimwen took a seat in one of the chairs. She set the cup onto the desk and then snapped her fingers at Mahvir. "Sit," she said. "I don't need you getting sick again."

The tips of his ears reddened. He looked at the Divine before slowly sitting down.

"Mahvir said there is a possibility Solas plans to create another Anchor," Nimwen said, sipping her tea. It wasn't the minty herbal tea she preferred, but it was sweet and she could already feel her nerves and headache lessen as she drank. "He said it might take years for him to do that, which gives us time to try and get him to see reason."

"Is that even possible?" Leliana asked. "I know your relationship with him, Inquisitor, but thinking objectively; is a man who has planned to destroy the world going to stop if we ask nicely?"

"It's not going to be that simple, Leliana," Nimwen replied. "But there is a chance. Unlike Corypheus, Solas feels he _has_ to end the world, he doesn't want to."

"Which makes trying to convince him all the more difficult," the Divine pointed out. "If he is willing to commit an atrocity even he himself doesn't want, what is there left to change his mind?"

"A man who believes there is nothing left to lose but love. Who is lost in the belief his actions will undo his greatest crime is not always beyond reason," Mahvir stated from where he had had been listening to them in silence. "Solas believes in repeating the past, he is undoing all the pain he caused our People. No one ever said the first of our People were easily swayed against their beliefs, but Lady Nimwen has already gotten him to see value in this world. He is far from beyond hope. Besides, the first of the Elvhen can't be killed in the sense you understand. He would vanish for a time then return and try again, bitter towards the world with nothing left able to sway him."

"This is true," Leliana said. She turned to Nimwen. "You hold more influence over Solas than you may believe, maybe even more than he would care to admit. If anyone can change his mind, it's you." The Divine bit her lip. "And perhaps another."

Nimwen's eyes widened, realizing what Leliana meant. "No."

"If he knew, there's a chance-"

"We are _not_ using her, Leliana," Nimwen snapped. She gripped her teacup until her knuckles were snowy.

"Besides getting a child that far behind enemy lines would be dangerous. By all that's holy, getting Nimwen behind enemy lines will be hard enough." Mahvir smiled. "And myself if possible."

"I was not suggesting we try and bring a two-year old into enemy territory," Leliana scowled, as if offended at the accusation. "I was merely suggesting that perhaps informing Solas he has a daughter might give him more incentive to not destroy the world."

"And he's going to believe me?" Nimwen replied. "I didn't tell him about Lori when we were in the Crossroads, granted I was too busy being in agony to speak, but regardless I didn't tell him. So, how is he going to believe me when I say out of the blue he has a child?"

"We are getting several months ahead of ourselves," Mahvir stopped whatever Leliana might have been about to say. "The first matter of business is waylaying his attempts to find what's needed to power another Anchor. He has part of what is needed, the very base of it from the original. He will need more than the power he's gathered over the past two years to enter the Fade let alone tearing down the Veil."

"Right then, if you have any insight as to where he will go next, I would like to hear it," said Leliana.

"My spies within his group have learned he is looking through the remains of the ruins he visited years ago with the Inquisition for any power which might have been overlooked there. I checked the one in the Exalted Plains on my way here, there are many there as well as at the Temple of Dirthamen."

"We picked both of those apart years ago," Nimwen said. "What else could be there for him to take?"

"The creators were said to be meticulous about how they hid their most powerful artifacts. According to my agents, Solas believes Dirthamen would have hid his away where none but Dirthamen or one of his closest followers could find them. Whatever the reasons, Solas has his people looking through those ruins." Mahvir bowed his head. "I regret I could only get close enough to gather information from a few of my informants. I know nothing else of what he could find in either place other than both were of Dirthamen's territory."

"We have to look into this as soon as possible. I will-" Nimwen paused, realizing what she was about to say. She looked down into her teacup. "I will get _others_ to head out to Dirthamen's Temple and the _Dirthavaran_ ruins."

"I will send a few of my people as well," Leliana said. She looked to Mahvir. "Thank you for coming to us."

"I believe we have a chance together and it is better to try than sit around waiting for the end to come." Mahvir smiled Leliana. "I hope this a start of a good partnership. All my knowledge and resources are at your's and the Inquisitor's disposal."

"Good." The Divine turned to Nimwen. "Is there anything else you needed?"

"No, it's fine," Nimwen replied. "You can return to your paperwork."

"Thank the Maker," Leliana said sarcastically. "And you can return to Lori. I am sure the little Lady is missing you."

"I'm sure she is." Nimwen stood, placing her tea back on the desk. "Thank you for your time, and the tea." She turned to the other elf. "Come along, Mahvir."

"My thanks, your Perfection, Divine Victoria." He stood and bowed to Leliana. Then, he followed Nimwen out, still favoring one leg. "She's not dead," he teased the guard when he took his staff. "Just doing paperwork. Suppose that's the same thing as wishing you were dead."

Nimwen chuckled. "Careful, Mahvir. I don't want to go down to the dungeon to bail you out."

"I think my ravens would beat you to it," he stated with playful smile. They moved off together. Once they were out of earshot of the guards, Mahvir pulled Nimwen aside. "There might be away we can join your troops on this mission," he whispered, eyes intense.

Nimwen's brows rose. "What?" she whispered back.

"You send servants, right? Just a small group? I can teach you to hide among them without notice. We can help them."

"That might be easy for you, Mahvir, but do you realize how many one-armed, _vallaslin_ wearing, female elves there are in the Inquisition? There's one, and you're looking at her."

At this he snorted and flicked his wrist. "Hiding the marks on your face is the easy part. Hiding how you act, that's the hard part. Once you act like a servant no one would look twice at you, one-armed or unable to breath and walk fast. It's the perk of being an elf in a human controlled world. No one notices you."

Nimwen sighed. "I appreciate the thought, Mahvir, but I don't know. Even if I did pull it off, what use would I be once we got there? I wouldn't be allowed near any of the valuable information and even if I could pass for a servant I doubt I could any real work. I'm still not use to...this," she said, waving her stump angrily. "I'd just be, useless...a waste of space."

"Never think that," Mahvir told her. "You're arm didn't make you, _you_. Your arm is just a part of you and you can learn to live without that piece of you. You can learn to be just as capable with that one arm as you were with two. There are only a few things two arms are better for. Stop thinking of what you _can't_ do and think on what you should do. Then set out to figure out how to do it."

Nimwen opened her mouth to speak, but found herself lost for words. She closed her mouth and looked down, at her remaining hand. She sighed, clenching it into a fist. "I...you're right," she said to Mahvir. " _Ir abelas, lethallin_ , it's just... so many things have changed and, this has been one of the hardest. But I must stop making excuses," she told him. "I refuse to let myself be useless. Even if the world doesn't want my help I still want to help it. So, I'll go on that trip, whether as the Inquisitor or as a servant."

"Now, that is the spirit to have." Mahvir smiled at her. "You could go as Inquisitor as well and kick your soldiers in the head whenever they try to baby you," he pointed out.

Nimwen chuckled. "My kick is not my strong suit, though I could bop them over the head with my staff. I haven't used it in a while, aside from when I caught Lori using it for dress-up-" Her eyes widened. "Lori, who would watch Lori? There's no way I could sneak away if I ask somebody to take care of her, and the only ones I trust with her are going to be the people trying to keep me from going."

"Then go as the Inquisitor and tell them you are still you with or without an arm. And you can still be of aid to your men." Mahvir placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have to show them you're still capable and they will stop questioning, but only if you can stop questioning yourself."

"I-I suppose so," Nimwen stuttered. She wanted to be ready, but _was_ she?

Mahvir sighed. He placed his staff on his back. "Honestly, you're worse than Deceit!"

Before Nimwen could protest he had taken her shoulders, spun her around, and was stirring her down the hall back towards the padecks. His grip wasn't strong. In fact his hands felt weak, almost frail against her shoulders.

"W-what are you doing?" Nimwen squeaked. She could have easily broken free of his grip, but she was too in shock do actually do so.

"We are going to show your soldiers you are still the Inquisitor and are still capable to leading them no matter the situation. Then, you are going with them to the ruins as their leader and not as a servant," Mahvir declared.

"I-hold on!" Nimwen finally snapped out of it and pulled herself from Mahvir's grip. "We are getting ahead of ourselves here. Before we do any of this, I want to check on Lori."

Mahvir staggered when she broke his grasp. He only just caught a wall to save himself from falling on his face. "I wasn't saying we were leaving just yet. Your soldiers don't even know what's going on." He pulled out his staff and leaned against it. His eyes locked on her. For a moment it looked almost like Solas was staring at her instead of Mahvir. "I'm not going to kidnap you and take you on some wild run through the country where you'll never see your daughter again. That's suicidal of me. Besides," - he smiled at her - "life is too short to not try living each day as if it were your last."

Nimwen was taken aback. She searched his face for that spark of Solas, but like a gust of wind, it was gone, and it was just Mahvir before her. _'What is going on?'_ she asked herself. "So…" she began, unsure of what to do now. "I promised Lori we'd eat lunch, you could join us if you'd like? I take it you're not doing anything at the moment."

"Not turning down free food, that's what I'm doing." His smile widened. "Just a warning, Fear and Deceit have this sixth sense. They always seem to know when I have food."

"I'm sure Lori would love to see them again," Nimwen joked. "Come, the Divine was kind enough to let us stay in the old Seekers' quarters. It's much nicer than you'd assume."

"And hopefully not too far." Mahvir fell in beside Nimwen, his pace just as slow as it had been on the way to see the Divine. Whatever energy he had to stir her down the hall seemed to have vanished. He was favoring one leg even more than he had been before despite the staff.

"So, where do you plan on staying while you're in Val Royeaux?" Nimwen asked.

"I planned on not staying in the city. I hear they arrest people for sleeping on grass." He gave Nimwen a teasing smile. "I don't exactly have money," he confessed. "And I don't like begging for shelter."

Nimwen scoffed. "Well no need to beg, you can stay with us," she said. "Consider it repayment for helping us."

He stopped at her words, eyes narrowed. "That still feels like I begged for it."

"Well, regardless you're staying, so, deal with it," she smirked.

"If there is no convincing you otherwise, then very well. You've my thanks, Lady Nimwen." He bowed his head to her. "Though, I wish I could give more than my thanks."

"I'll consider your company extra payment."

Mahvir laughed. "Very well." He bowed with such elegance to her, he appeared as an noble to a lady they wished to dance with. His cloths contrasted with such a move it was almost humorous. "Then, shall we find the little lady?" he held out his hand to her.

* * *

 **FW:** And the stranger helps to push Nimwen into action :)

 **HH:** -Nothing like a random stranger to help motivate ya!


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello lovelies! Sorry it's been so long since the last update, but we've got the goods for you darlings. SHOUTOUTS GO OUT TO: ZenithofDarkness** **and everyone else who's favorite and followed this fic.**

Chapter 4:

The sun was bright were the group was situated to have lunch. Mahvir was seated beside Nimwen on her other side from Lorien. It was a little strange to be at a table again for food. The last time he had been at a table had been as slave and he hadn't eaten there at all.

"Lori, don't play with your food," Nimwen said.

Instead of eating her sandwich, the little girl had been busy digging her finger into it. "It squishy," Lorien giggled.

"That's because it's cream cheese, and it's much better when it's in your tummy," Nimwen said.

Lorien sighed. "Okay." And with that, the child proceeded to stuff half her sandwich into her mouth, making cream cheese and cucumbers spill onto her dress.

"I can't win," Nimwen sighed as she used a napkin to clean the mess from her daughter's clothes.

Lorien, unfazed by the mess, giggled and looked at Mahvir. "Look, Mahvy, I chipunk," she grinned, cheeks full of food.

"I can see that." He smiled at the girl.

A flutter of wings came from above. As he had warned Nimwen, Fear and Deceit appeared landing on the table and helping themselves to Mahvir's plate.

"Birdies!" Lorien squealed, causing chewed up sandwich to get on her chin.

"Lori, swallow before you talk or you will choke," Nimwen said, wiping her child's face.

Lorien swallowed and then reached out with grabby hands towards the birds. "Pretty," she cooed. She began to make chirping and hooting noises at the two ravens.

Fear glanced up from his meal before he snapping his beak in indigence at the child and returning to ripping apart the sandwich Mahvir had only managed to eat half of. Deceit, on the other hand, looked at Lorien with interest, her blue eyes shining as she looked at Lorien's food.

"Deceit, you have my food, don't even think about eating the girl's," Mahvir scolded her.

"I hope you had enough to eat before the vultures came in," Nimwen said. "There's plenty more if you're still hungry."

"Whatever I eat they get half of, it's just the way it is," Mahvir explained. "My thanks for the offer but I fear if I took more these two would be greedy." He glared at Deceit who had cocked her to one side in a pleading gesture. Besides it was always strange just being given food or stealing it. He preferred to physically earn his meals.

"It would be no problem to get enough for all three of you," Nimwen said. "If you change your mind just ask."

"Pretty co," Lorien said, looking at the birds.

"Those aren't crows, _da'len_ , they're ravens," Nimwen said. "You remember the ravens at Skyhold, don't you?"

"Uh-uh, we got lots," Lorien told Mahvir. "They sleep at top of tower, 'bove the pretty pictures an' books."

"I see." Mahvir could see it as if he stood there. The tower with the images so lovingly painted. A place of reading and finally where the ravens would roost. "I doubt these two would have done well in such a place. They barely share the food I give them."

As if on some unspoken order, Fear leapt at Deceit. His talons dug into her wing as they fought over the scraps. She went low and hit him in the belly with her beak. Fear shrieked and flapped, eyes wild with rage.

Mahvir sighed. "Enough!" At once the two birds went flying, both letting out alarmed cries. They managed to regain balance and glared at Mahvir.

"They make quite a pair," Nimwen joked.

"No fight!" Lorien scolded the two birds, waving her tiny finger at them. "Rude!"

Deceit bowed her head, one wing covering her beak in an almost shameful gesture. All the while Mahvir saw the demon of a bird eyeing Lorien's food.

Fear cocked his head, flipping his wings and snapping his beak as if telling the girl off for telling _him_ off. Which he most likely was since Mahvir was able to mute their ability to talk when around others.

Lorien stuck her tongue out at Fear, flapping her hands in an imitation of his wings.

"Lori, don't poke at him," Nimwen urged the girl.

Fear's feather's rose in rage. He leapt at the girl.

Mahvir lifted his hand.

Fear stopped, frozen inchs from Lorien with his talons extended.

Mahvir flicked his wrist. The next moment time reversed around the bird and he was back on the table feathers fluffed. Fear blinked, feathers falling flat. He turned to Mahvir and cawed a few times before leaping into the air landing on Mahvir's shoulder.

Nimwen blinked. "What was that?" she asked confused. "What did you do just now?"

"Per our bond, the ravens can't disobey me. Hurting Lorien would have disobeyed me and thus he couldn't touch her," Mahvir said. It wasn't a full lie, but he shuddered inside at the fact it was still a lie. But how could he explain he could only use time magic. That his abilities were the reason he was sickly and frail, that- he cut off the train of thought.

"Hmm, if that's the case, then couldn't you order them not to take your food?" Nimwen asked, brow raised in curiosity.

"You could try," Fear whispered in Mahvir's ear. "Try to, little elf."

"I would rather not kill them," Mahvir laughed. "They're welcome to my food. Deceit!" he snapped just as Deceit was about to take an offering from Lorien.

"But she nice," Lorien said, looking at them innocently with a piece of bread in her palm.

"She's not called Deceit because the name is pretty, Lorien," Mahvir told the girl. "She has a habit of playing people to get what she wants."

Lorien cocked her head to the side, as if pondering his words. "So...no bread?"

"No bread or she'll start whittling you until it's all your lunch." Mahvir bowed his head to Nimwen. "My apologies. Next time I will eat elsewhere so these two don't try anything."

"No it's fine, they are no less hectic than this one," Nimwen said, pointing to Lorien. "Speaking of which, could I ask you something, Mahvir?"

Mahvir smiled at her. He hoped she hadn't noticed he had somehow known Lorien's full name. "Anything." Though, he suspected…

"How did you know Lori's full name?"

Fear pecked him in the head. "Screw up. Old age makes you a screw up." The bird took the sky cawing, "Screw up, screw up," over and over again.

Mahvir rubbed his head where Fear had pecked him. Damn demon of a bird. "Lucky guess," he grumbled, head pounding with the echoing of the pain from Fear's beak.

"Is that it, I thought you didn't believe in luck?" Nimwen retorted.

"I don't. Lori had to be a nickname so I picked the prettiest of the options. I could have just as easily gotten it wrong."

Deceit clawed her way onto his shoulder. Now that Fear had flown off, laughing at Mahvir, it was her rightful perch and she was going to claim it as such. She held her head high to show all it was her's now.

"Sweet talk won't work on me-" Nimwen's eyes widened, and she got the strangest look on her face. She quickly blinked and shook her head. "N-never mind," she grumbled.

"You think my name pwetty?" Lorien asked, eyes round.

"The prettiest of them all." Mahvir smiled at the girl but eyed Nimwen. It was clear she had been thinking of another, far smoother of a talker than Mahvir when she'd addressed him. He knew he looked nothing like Solas but the time he had spent with the ancient elf might have shown in his actions. He wasn't one of the Solas's agents, far from it. But still… there were secrets best left buried in the past.

Lorien giggled and clapped her hands. "I like you," she said. "Mama, we keep him?"

"Mahvir is not a pet, Lori," Nimwen reminded the girl.

Lorien looked at Mahvir. "You stay, pleeeeeeeease? Birdies too?" She blinked halla-eyes at him, lip quivering in a clear guilt trip.

At this, he laughed and teased, "You can keep me as long as I can keep you, Lorien."

Deceit glared at the girl.

Lorien did not notice this, though. Instead she squealed, jumped up from her seat, and toddled over to Mahvir. She got into his lap, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Yay! You be brother!"

Mahvir felt his blood grow cold at the word.

"L-Lori," Nimwen sputtered. "That's not how it works."

"Mahvy brother!" Lorien pouted at her mother.

Again she said it. His heart skipped a beat as unwanted images flashed into his mind from the last person to call him "brother:"

 _Another elf stood across from him, a long dagger held in his hand. Blood dripped from the dagger's tip. "It's nothing personal,_ brother _," he spat the word. "It's high time I ruled alone." His yellow eyes flashed, lips curled in a sneer_.

Mahvir shook himself. The past was the past!

"Mahvir? Mahvir, are you alright?" Nimwen's cool hand touched his shoulder.

" _Ir abelas_." Mahvir managed a weak smile. "I'm fine."

"Mahvy look sad?" Lorien asked. She squeezed her arms around him tighter, nuzzling his chest. "I hug you so no be sad."

"Hugs cure all sorrows." Mahvir touched the girl's blond hair. "Especially ones with intent to." He smiled at her. The sudden pain at seeing that moment again hidden behind a facade of a smile.

Lorien beamed up at him. "Mama say when people sad, they get hugs. She say happy people get hugs to, so we gotta hug everybody."

"Your mother is a wise woman." Mahvir looked at Nimwen. "My thanks to the both of you." He lifted Lorien off his lap. "Excuse me." He bowed to them before he started off.

"Fear will feel that pain," Deceit warned him.

"I should listen to your warnings? The last time I did I needed up neck deep in quilbacks."

Deceit laughed. "Ah, such fun. You are gullible sometimes, Dirthamen."

He scowled. "Mahvir," he corrected her.

"None but you can understand myself and Fear. What does it matter what we call you?"

"It matters to me."

Deceit touched her head to his. "You are always running. Run, run, little elf. No one will notice." She took off from his shoulder to follow Fear wherever he had gone.

"Wait!"

"Lori, stop!"

Mahvir turned to the girl and Nimwen. The next moment he found himself gasping as in pain when the girl had tripped him by hugging his legs. The two of them ended up on the ground as a result.

"Lorien Lavellan, you are in so much-oh, _ir abelas_ , Mahvir, she just took off and she's so fast-"

"Why you leave, Mahvy?" Lorien asked, oblivious to the pain she'd caused him.

Mahvir struggled to both regain his breath and not hurt the child as h fought for air.

"Lori, what have I said about running off without me?" Nimwen scolded. She reached down and grabbed the girl with her one arm, holding her like a sack. "We are going to have a talk, young lady."

"But-but I no want Mahvy to leave," Lorien said as she looked up at her mother.

" _Da'len_ , Mahvir is an adult and he can leave whenever he wants to," Nimwen told her. She looked back at Mahvir. "Once again, I am so sorry. I hope she didn't hurt you."

While Nimwen had been scolding her daughter, Mahvir had pulled himself into a sitting position. Talons had locked around his lungs. He just sat there focusing on taking as much air in and trying to breath out just as much. He managed to wave his hand dismissively at Nimwen's words, but couldn't speak for lack of air.

Nimwen eyed him. "Mahvir?" She placed Lorien on the ground and knelt beside Mahvir. "Mahvir, are you alright?"

He took out one of the plants and placed it in his mouth. He sucked in the juice. At once the talons loosened around his chest. He took a deep breath. "Please stop worrying every time I have an attack, Lady Nimwen," He smiled at her. "It's no different than when people fuss over you. Except mine is bad lungs."

"Yes, something that unlike my stump, can prove fatal." Nimwen sighed. " _Ir abelas_ , I can't help it. I've always been a bit doting and now a days there are very few people left who seem to need my care. You've become my next victim, I suppose," she chuckled softly.

"Just don't call me 'son.'" Mahvir muttered to himself

"What was that? I didn't hear you," Nimwen asked.

"I'm fine, Lady Nimwen." Mahvir used his staff to pull himself to his feet. "I just have to prove it to you I can handle myself despite my," he paused, "disability. And I will do just that."

"I have no doubt you can handle yourself," Nimwen quickly assured him. "Just, I am a worrier, that's what I do. I apologize if I seem to doting."

"I suppose it makes for a change." It did too, the last person who had worried about him had ended up throwing him in a lake as a joke and flirting… women, who could figure them? "Just don't punish Lorien. She meant well. And it's hard to tell what sets off one of those attacks. Deceit has set them off before by mistake." He leaned against his staff. His leg ached and right then sleep was starting to sound good. He had been up for the past two nights. Last night because he couldn't sleep and the night before trying to avoid nightmares.

Nimwen sighed. "Very well, but you," she turned to Lorien. "Don't run off again, okay? When I say stop, you stop. Understand?"

"Yeah, mama," Lorien nodded.

"Okay then." Nimwen leaned down and kissed Lorien's forehead. "I don't want to lose you in a crowd, sweetie."

"Love you, mama," Lorien said, hugging Nimwen around the neck.

Nimwen chuckled. "Love you too, _da'len_ ," she responded, giving her child a one armed hug.

Mahvir watched them. To them he would look only thoughtful rather than sad. He wondered if Solas would ever know just how lucky he was or if he could see that this time he would have gotten it right if he could just see beyond his goals?

"You know," Mahvir started, "if you shifted Lorien from that position you could pick her up that way."

"What?" Nimwen blinked. She looked down at hers and Lorien's position, and realization hit her. "I think you're right."

"Try it," Mahvir urged her. This was just what she would need to encourage her she could still do anything as long as she put her mind to it. "Lorien, try to hold still, okay?" he asked the girl.

"Okay," Lorien replied.

"Just hold on, I'm going to pick you up," Nimwen said. She lowered her arm and began to lift up Lorien. Immediately Lorien's legs went around her waist and her arms tightened around her neck. It took a moment for Nimwen to gain her balance, but she eventually got it and was able to stand, Lorien in her arm. "I-I did it," she gasped.

"Yay, go mama," Lorien cheered, giving her mother a peck on the cheek.

A grin broke out onto Nimwen's face, the happiest Mahvir had seen her since he met her.

"Mama...why you cry?" Lorien asked when she noticed the wetness in the older elf's eyes.

"I-it's fine, _da'len_. It's a happy cry," Nimwen assured her, her voice tight.

"Anything is possible if you put your mind to it," Mahvir reminded her, smiling. "And I do believe you have your reason to fight right beside you, Lady Nimwen."

Nimwen looked at Lorien. "Indeed I do."

"Me?" Lorien asked.

Nimwen laughed. "Yes, you, silly," she replied as she smother the girl's face in kisses, much to the toddler's squealing delight.

Mahvir smiled at the pair and whispered, "Bring him home, Nimwen, with your own strength." He turned and limped forward.

"So, how do you propose I convince them to let me go? Cassandra is a force to be reckoned with."

"Everyone eventually bows to reason, even the strongest tree can't stand alone against the wind," Mahvir stated. "While I do mean for you to have your own strength, others are always welcome. Perhaps I should stick with words not with metaphors." He laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

Nimwen cocked her head to the side, curiosity in her eyes. "It's fine. Honestly I miss a good metaphor. All the people who usually talk circles around me are gone. So many straightforward people I've been dealing with, and this is Val Royeaux for goodness sake."

"Maker, we can't have that," Mahvir joked. She wanted a metaphor he could give her one. "Let me put it this way: you are the kind of tree whose roots spread out and form a forest around you. Together you and this forest hold strong against all storms, no matter how fierce the wind blows. Now, picture Solas a tree who has no forest around him. A tree on the highest peak of a mountain, strong against most winds, for he is a weathered tree used to standing alone, but then one day one wind comes along and knocks the tree down. In this metaphor you are that wind… I think. Either that or it's a dragon of some sort."

Nimwen snorted. "Yes, that will do," she said. She then frowned. "But that thing about Solas, he's a lonely man, isn't he? I knew it when we were...together, but only now do I realize just how alone he was been all this time."

"It's a choice, one he made many centuries ago. I suppose all of the first of our People could've gone: 'bow to me, for we are your gods now! Grrrr!'" Mahvir clawed the air with his free hand, making a fake angry face.

Lorien giggled. "He funny," she told Nimwen.

"Yes, he is very funny," Nimwen smiled at the girl. "He is also quite well-informed. _Too_ informed in fact." Still smiling, she looked back at Mahvir. "Pray tell, how do you know so much about Solas and the _evanuris_. This is all information that even someone with agents like yours shouldn't know, and I'm rather curious."

Mahvir stiffened. In his wish to cheer her up he had let too much slip. He sighed, there was no way out of this. " _Ir abelas, da'len_ ," he started, head bowed. "I've not been entirely honest about my age or my name. I am actually Shartan, I didn't take the name from the original. I am him. You pick a few things up after a thousand years."

Nimwen's eyes widened, and then narrowed like a viper. "Proof. Now," she demanded.

"Hmm. I could tell you how Andraste loved her people but had a wicked sense of humor. Her idea of cheering someone up was throwing them in a freezing lake," he shuddered. "Either that or that was her idea of flirting with someone. I've yet to sort it out."

"That's nice, but any elf in Halamshiral could say the same thing. I want to know how you could be Shartan, and what connection you have to Solas."

"Ah, the connection to Solas is simply not wanting him to destroy this world. As for how I am someone, how do you prove that? I could tell you all about the holy war against the Imperium and how I was burned at the stack, but what would that prove other than events 'any elf' could recite?"

"What was the relationship between Andraste and Shartan?"

Mahvir had felt his ears burning before she had finished the question. He coughed. "You want me tell you how I fell in love with a human. A human who was both married and betrothed all at once? That I followed her not just because it would help my People but because I loved her? Who couldn't love her? Even a magister ended up loving her and thus killed her out of mercy," he hadn't meant to but the last words were spoken in rage. " _Ir abelas_." He bowed his head.

" _Ir abelas, hahren_."

Mahvir looked at her. "I would do anything for this world and for my People, Lady Nimwen. As Shartan I wanted to see all of us free and so led them from slavery to the promise of a home. A home Andraste promised us. But she betrayed her husbanded and in the end he betrayed her and us. All because she loved him and her elf general."

"She seemed like a remarkable woman," Nimwen said. "I would have loved to meet her."

"Who Andasti?" Lorien asked.

Mahvir chuckled at Lorien's pronouncing of Andraste's name. "You're a lot like her, Lady Nimwen. You've her spirit and courage. One might also say you're like Mythal in same ways as well." He smiled at Nimwen. "I see why both humans and our People love you."

"I've met Mythal, I don't know how I feel about that comparison. I thank you for the thought though."

He couldn't stop himself. Mahvir burst out laughing until his chest started to tighten. "I mean the young Mythal," he managed between gasps for air and trying not laugh. "Not the cranky woman she became who is always seeking revenge on those who killed her. I've met her as well, _da'len_. Scared the living daylights out of me."

"Oh, well, in that case-"

"Mistel, Mistel! Uncle Varry talk 'bout her!" Lorien exclaimed. "She dragon who help Mister Hawke!"

"I see Varric read you _Tale of the Champion_ before he left," Nimwen said.

"Mistle dragon _and_ lady," Lorien told her mother, seriousness in her voice.

All this talk about Mythal gave Mahvir a work around to Nimwen's other question even if it was a lie. "You asked how I knew so much about the creators? I told you I had met Mythal. She told me many things including the battle between the _evanuris_ and Fen'Harel."

"She just told you?" Nimwen asked. "The Mythal I remember was not the most, forthcoming of women."

"Oh, I never said she was forthcoming about it or what I had to do get that information. I did tell Andraste that was the last time I would speak with Mythal on her behalf no matter how much she begged," he meant the last part as a joke, but his voice caught at the mention of Andraste.

"That sounds more like Mythal," Nimwen said. "But I'd never heard of Andraste seeking out any of the _evanuris_ for help."

"The chant is a painted image of the Andraste they want to remember. Few truths remain within it other than she was loving woman and was the one who founded the belief in the Maker. She would have done anything to bring down the Imperium. Even seek knowledge from the _evanuris_." He stopped and looked around despite the fact he knew no one had overheard that. "Don't tell anyone I ever said that!"

"I...won't?" Nimwen replied. "So did she seek out...others as well?" She asked.

"Yes." Mahvir paused then decided on the truth. "It's how we learned the Witch of Wilds was playing host to piece of Mythal. Let's sit, this isn't a short story if you wish to hear it and I fear I might collapse if we remain standing much longer." His leg was sending daggers of pain through his body.

"Of course, let's sit," Nimwen replied.

"We get story?" Lorien asked. "Yay story!" she cheered.

The three of them returned to where they had been having lunch. Mahvir paused, thinking for a long time. "The first of the _evanuris_ Andraste wanted to seek out for his power was Dirthamen," he started. "She wanted to know if the lore, what little we slaves had of him, was true or not. If he really knew everything and, if he did, if he could share the information with us. I told her it was bad idea to seek out those who had been silent for a thousand years. That it was unlikely we would ever find anything.

"She sent out several groups to look for any signs of ancient elven society. Until we found the ruins of a temple. It wasn't one which pointed to Dirthamen, rather Mythal. From there we gathered more clues until it eventually led us to the Witch of the Wilds and Mythal. The temple I speak of was later renamed the Temple of Sacred Ashes." He paused to gather his thoughts.

"That's incredible," Nimwen said. "And something I doubt the Chantry would want brought to light. Even with the Divine adding back the Canticle of Shartan there are still those trying to keep the elves' influence out of the Chantry."

"Sad to see, but our People have never been welcome as equals. Most people fear changes, we are no different than the humans in this." Mahvir bowed his head. "It's a sad truth and one which has split our People between city elf, slave, and Dalish in recent history.

"Andraste pressed us back towards her homeland. It was just a small group of us. She had left Maferath in charge of the main force while we set out with a few of her most trusted allies. Eventually we found ourselves deep in the wildlands."

"Who Mefapaf?" Lorien asked.

Mahvir blinked. If the man had lived to hear a child call him that he could see Maferath's flushed, red face before he would have burst out in a roar of laughter. Mahvir chuckled. "A man who is remembered as a traitor to Andraste. He led her and I into a trap which in turn lead to Andraste's death. He-" Mahvir broke off as the images of the fire raced through his mind. The pain as he used his power to freeze the fire in order to escape. The frozen flames had devoured his left side. He'd raced to save his love. The agony as his hands burned. The memory of her frozen in time, bleeding out and the raw rage which had filled him. The pain as he had been forced to flee instead of avenging her. The images were clear to him as if it had been only yesterday.

"Mahvir?"

A cool hand touched his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Mahvir jumped at the touch. He looked to Nimwen, eyes still wide the vision of past events. "Forgive me," he managed to choke out at last. "Bad memories," he explained.

Nimwen looked at him, a concerned look on her face. "It's probably not the nicest of subjects but I wanted to know, how did you survive? It was said you died with Andraste."

Mahvir bowed his head. He couldn't tell the full truth anymore without revealing his power over time magic, only time magic, to another. People tended to do one of two things upon learning of his ability: call him a god or try to dissect him to learn what unlocked it.

"The fire burned the bindings on me. I tried to get Andraste out even as I burned, but she was already gone so I fled. The Magisters assumed the fire killed me. Half my body was on fire when I ran." He couldn't look at Nimwen, knowing he had given her half truths, knowing that he could never tell another of his true abilities. That if he did Dirthamen would live again when Dirthamen had died in name twenty centuries ago.

"So, that's why you wear the gloves, and the cloth?"

Mahvir sighed. He took the scarf from around his neck, revealing the burn running up just below his jawline. Then he removed his gloves to reveal malformed skin on both of his hands. He pulled his sleeves. The burns stopped just passed his wrist on his right hand while his left arm was covered in the burn.

"The scar covers just over forty percent of my body. The fire aggravated my already poor breathing until it become hard to even walk short distances without an attack. But I lived and she didn't."

" _Ir abelas,_ " Nimwen said, her voice soft. "I can't imagine…"

Lorien reached out and took one of his scarred hands in her tiny ones. "Ouchies still hurt?" she asked, examining his skin with an innocent curiosity.

"Sometimes," Mahvir confessed. "Thank you, Lorien." He wrapped his hand around her tiny one. "It's the past and I only regret I was not fast enough to help her," he told Nimwen. "What matters now is the future. If I lived each day dwelling on what could have been I would live life in stalemate as sorrow devoured me. I would rather live in the moment while working for a brighter tomorrow."

"That's a good attitude. One I think we should all have," Nimwen said. "So you managed to escape, what then? How did you live all these years, was it _uthenera?_ "

"I would have taken a thousand year nap over actually being awake for all of it any day," he joked. In a more serious voice, he continued, "I believe it was an experiment performed on me which is why I am still alive and why I've never aged passed my twenties."

"An...experiment?" Nimwen asked.

"Dag Dag!" Lorien interjected.

"I don't think he was talking about Dagna, _da'len_ ," Nimwen said.

"Not unless she was alive back then," he joked.

"Doubt it," Nimwen smirked. "But what experiment were you talking about? What kind of test could make a person immortal?"

"I wasn't really in a position for asking questions, Lady Nimwen. I didn't know the full effects until years later after the person who had performed the experiments on me was gone."

"Was it your old master?" Nimwen asked. "I remember Varric telling me about one of Hawke's associates, Fenris. He had been experimented on and it gave him extraordinary abilities."

Mahvir had a flash of Elgar'nan with another elvhen. The two of them talking in hushed voices close to a seven-year-old Dirthamen, then called Dirth. "In a manner of speaking," he confessed.

"And so you were able to live all these years. Why the name Mahvir?"

"Better question: why not the name 'Mahvir'?" He smiled at Nimwen as he replaced his scarf and gloves. "Shartan is remembered with fondness by our People, especially the Dalish. While he is hated by the humans, who tried everything in the power to wipe the fact I am an elf from history, or just the fact I existed in the first place from history. There are those who know who I am and how to find me when their need is greatest. But outside of that, there is no reason to keep a name most either detest or revere. I am no God-like being. I am just a man who wishes to live for all the tomorrows of his people."

"And to keep the world from being ripped asunder," Nimwen added. "Though wouldn't a leader of the People desire a world where the elves ruled once more?"

"We can achieve a world far better than the one Solas invisions. I loved a human woman, and I love my people. I don't hate humans anymore than I could hate elves. I do regret our peoples never found common ground, but I still believe we can achieve a homeland and work in peace with the humans. Tearing down the veil will destroy everything: the humans, the children of the stone, our People, darkspawn, dragons, and the gentle spirits. What world is left if the people manage to make it through will be swallowed by the chaos and fear of a place they grew up unable to understand? What future is there for our People if demons try to kill them at every turn? There is none. The world Solas seeks has been gone for twenty centuries and can never be restored."

Nimwen bowed her head, sighing. "I wish Solas could see there is hope for this world, that _he_ has a place in this world."

"Who Sully?" Lorien asked.

Nimwen stiffened, her already fair skin growing paler.

Mahvir noticed her distress and knew the reasons. "Solas was once a great man," he told the little girl. "He's from the time when our People ruled. Always remember him for what he has done for his people. Know he is simply a great man who's lost his way."

Lorien blinked. "Okay," she said, though clearly not comprehending all that was said.

" _Ma serannas_ ," Nimwen said, turning back to Mahvir. In her eyes was gratitude, as well as pain. "There is still good in him. I _know_ it." Her gaze glanced towards her stump arm, hidden away behind silk brocade. "Even when he hurts people it's always been in an attempt to help. Sad, isn't it?"

"He is lost in the darkness of his own guilt. Most have been there before. When it's as deep as his is, there is no way to crawl out of it alone. We all need a kick in the head from someone to get out of those dark places, whether from a stranger or someone you love. It's no different for him than it is for you or me in learning to run again."

"I'll drag him out of the dark if I have to, whether I have just one arm or no arms," Nimwen vowed. "I can't give up on him, he wouldn't give up on me."

"I will stand by you until the moment you go to face him," Mahvir promised. He placed his over his heart and bowed to her. "You have my word on this, Lady Nimwen."

" _Ma serannas_ ," Nimwen replied.

"Ma Sera-ness," Lorien repeated.

Mahvir bowed his head to her. "I will do what is necessary to save all of our People." Even if it meant finishing what Solas had started twenty-centuries ago by sealing both himself and Solas in Fade. He kept this to himself and it would only be in the last ditch effort to save this world. For Nimwen's and Lorien's sake, he desperately hoped the future he saw where Solas would listen would be the one to occur.

"It's _ma serannas_ ," Nimwen said to Lorien, enunciating slowly.

Lorien cocked her head. "My...Sera nest?"

" _Ma. Serannas."_

" _Ma ser...annas._ "

"Good girl," Nimwen smiled.

"I got it, Mahvy," Lorien grinned at the older elf.

"Good job." Mahvir smiled at her as he placed his hand on her head. He winked at her. "Little sister."

Lorien giggled and clapped her hands.

"You don't have to indulge her," Nimwen whispered, though she looked amused. "At this rate she won't let you go."

"Whoever said I wanted to let go as well," he teased Nimwen. "She's too adorable to let go of." He smiled at Nimwen.

"I door-bull," Lorien said, prideful. She clambered onto Mahvir's lap and scrunched her hands up in his shirt. "You brother now," she told him.

"Adorable, it means you're cute, precocious child." Mahvir felt warmth in his heart. The same warmth he had felt seeing his daughter's birth. The same warmth when he had seen other children of the People over the past ten centuries. This was what he lived for: her future. The future of all elvhen children whether they were human-blooded or pure. They were all his children to him and he would live to ensure they had bright future.


	5. Chapter 5

**SHOUT-OUTS GO OUT TO:** **Night-Light11** **,** **Ruxiod** **,** **KelseyHeart, and all the other awesome people who have supported our story!**

Chapter 5:

"This basement seems secluded enough," Nimwen said to Mahvir as the two descended the stairs. She kept looking back at him, worried his breathing would be hard going down the steps. "I don't think we'll be bothered."

"Good." Mahvir was going slow; he didn't look up at her when he replied. Each step down he used his left leg with the staff and held to the wall with his right hand. He had to focus where he stepped.

Nimwen held onto the railing with her hand, nervous about slipping. After losing her left arm, stairs made her more anxious than they used to. While trying to find a place for them to train in secret, Nimwen had been excited about the prospect of being able to fight again. As they got closer however, her excitement was slowly turning to nervousness. Strapped to her back was her trusty staff, Shockmaw, but now it the staff felt heavier than it ever did. _'I can do this_ ,' she told herself, but even her inner voice was less than convincing.

It took Mahvir a little longer than Nimwen to make it to the bottom. He stopped beside her, sucking on one of the herbs again to ease breathing while his dark gaze inspected the space. "It will do."

He placed his staff against the wall before pulling off his scarf. Nimwen watched as he used his teeth to tie the scarf around his shoulder, right arm, and back. Soon his right arm was bound to his back. He pulled the scarf tight before he picked up his staff.

"We'll start with you learning to balance without the aid of your arm."

"Okay," Nimwen responded. She took Shockmaw off her back, gripping the staff like she had a thousand times. As she held it through, another bout of the phantom feeling in her lost arm surged. She could almost feel her left fingers twitching, waiting to catch her staff as she twirled it. It made her skin itch.

"Don't think on old battles. It'll make this harder." Mahvir moved around the room, lighting the torches so they could see. He then moved to the center of the room and gestured with his head for her join him.

Nimwen obeyed and followed, trying to push away the feelings of her ghost limb and focus on the task at hand. "Just curious, what is your experience in training one-armed mages?" she asked.

"I met a young boy a few centuries back who had no arms and great magical potential. He had run away in order to hide and was at risk of being taken by demons. I taught him to use his magic without gestures. A difficult task considering, but he learned and was a great mage in his time." He paused. "I also had to re-teach myself to fight after my breathing got worse and I got a bad leg from the fire. Though, I am barely a mage."

"Well, if a mage with no arms can learn, there's hope for me yet," Nimwen said. "Alright, what is lesson number one?"

"Learning to still use your staff." Mahvir moved into an odd stance close to the one Nimwen used to take, but the staff hovered a little closer to the ground. "The heavier end needs to be closer to the ground," he told her. "It will leave your 'weaker' side exposed, but once you master using magic without gestures, this will be to your advantage. The staff will allow you to retain balance while in combat."

"Makes sense," she said. She followed his instructions and angled the end of her staff closer to the ground. It felt off, the dragon head of the staff feeling much heavier closer down, but Nimwen trusted Mahvir not to lead her astray.

"Not only will this aid with stationary combat but movement as well." His body moved as he twisted the staff with one hand. Lightning crackled from the tip with each step he took. It struck the wall at the same point, over and over until the end attack. He stopped, back in the same stance. She had noticed through this he had breathed slow, in and out in some sort of pattern he had timed with the use of the staff.

She turned to the wall, determination on her face. She twisted her wrist and sent a bolt of lightning at the wall. She lifted her staff, but out of habit moved her staff to her other hand, only to remember it was gone when her staff clattered to the ground. " _Fenhedis,_ " she cursed, her cheeks pink as she bent down to pick up her staff.

"The hardest part is remembering not to fall back on old habits," Mahvir told her. He was leaning on his staff. "I still breath wrong when walking but when in combat I focus on timing my breathing so my airways don't restrict as quickly. For you, it's a matter of disciplining yourself to use one hand. Try the first two steps. We'll move up from there."

Mahvir moved through the first two steps with his staff. The lightning stuck the mark again.

Nimwen breathed in, trying to keep her composure. She tried again, having to consciously remind herself not to transfer her staff to her non-existent hand. Her moves felt clumsy, juvenile, and it was like she was a child again, learning with Keeper Deshanna how to hold a staff.

' _Some Inquisitor you are,'_ a little voice mocked her when she dropped her staff again, coming close to zapping herself. She gritted her teeth and picked her staff up again.

"Better." Mahvir nodded to her. "Don't expect perfection, Lady Nimwen. You have to learn to walk again before you can run."

"Yes, yes I know," Nimwen responded, with a bit more bite than she intended. She started again, training her arms to move how it should. As she moved, her stump waved uselessly beside her, and she angrily wanted to do _something_ , even if that was impossible. When she miscalculated on a turn and ended up smacking her head with the butt of her staff, she let out a frustrated yell and threw it to the ground. "Why can't I do this?! It's such a simple thing!" she snapped.

Mahvir moved over to her. "If that was true, everyone who lost a limb would continue fighting." He leaned his staff against his shoulder and pulled out another scarf from his bag. "Will you let me tie this around your arm? It will help with your balance." He returned the scarf to his bag without moments before she spoke.

"Fine, fine, just do whatever you want," Nimwen growled. She realized she was being rude to Mahvir, especially after all the help he was giving her, but she couldn't help it. Lashing was the only thing keeping her from crying out in frustration.

"Sit down," he ordered her. His eyes were calm and kind despite the sudden sternness in his voice.

"Why?"

"You need to calm down," he stated and settled himself on the ground, his staff placed across his lap. "Learning to work through a new block isn't easy. It is best when frustrated to sit down and remind yourself why you're doing this. If you focus that reason in the center of mind and grasp to it then we can continue. If the reason isn't good enough then go back upstairs." He pulled out his herb and started suck on it.

"I'm trying," Nimwen said. "But, what if it's not enough?"

' _You were never enough.'_

"How long will it take me to be viable in a fight? Months? Years? Everything I know about magic, I have to learn all over again, and until then I'm as good on a battlefield as a meat shield."

"It depends on the person." Mahvir looked at her. "Each person has their own block they need to overcome. I am not talking about the physical block either." He gestured to her arm. "I am talking about the block in here." He tapped his head. "Minutes, hours, days, months, years; never. It all depends on the individual and if the reasons are good enough to overcome your mental block. For me, I couldn't let go of the past. I thought myself undeserving of life and had lost all will to fight until a friend hit me hard in the head. He told me, 'Sit on that rock there. You're not allowed to leave until you think of something you're good at. I don't mean magic either. SIT or I swear I will tickle to an inch of your life.' So I sat there and sat there until I finally realized what I was good at. I think I was there for several weeks. He would bring me food."

"Your friend reminds me of mine," Nimwen said with a small chuckle. "When Solas first left and I found out I was pregnant, I...grew depressed. I stayed in bed and didn't want to talk to anybody, but my friends wouldn't let me, Dorian especially. He kept bringing me food and would read books to me whether I wanted them or not; obnoxious voices included. I think I managed to survive five days of _Swords and Shields_ before I finally told him to shut up. That was the first I'd spoken in a while. I got better after that." Nimwen smiled, remembering the look on Dorian's face after she'd knocked the book from his hands, and the crushing embrace that followed. It made her miss him all the more.

"Those are the rare friends we should always keep the memory of close." Mahvir nodded. "I do miss him pretending he was a halla chasing me and shouting 'you're letting a legless man out run you! How embarrassing?!'"

Nimwen burst into laughter. "He did what?!" she cackled.

"Oh, he had crafted himself prosthetic legs and taught himself how to run again. But he placed his hands on his head and pretended they were halla horns then charge off through the field. I could never catch up to him. It earned me no end of being teased by him."

"He seems like an interesting person," Nimwen said. "What was his name?"

At this Mahvir laughed. "You're going to find this silly, but the group we were with at the time had named me Sahlin for being unable to live in the moment and him Mahvir for only living in the moment. He used to say 'You get my name when you learn to live. Then I get to be called Mahviramen! Get it, I keep tomorrow!' He had that kind of personality though. I suppose a part of me took his name not only for the future of our People, but to remember him."

"It's a nice sentiment," Nimwen said. "I wish I could have met him."

"I do as well. Then again, perhaps not. He would have been hitting you right now rather than talking."

Nimwen chuckled. "Would he be deterred if I showed him my missing arm and my two-year old?"

"He would have been hitting you _because_ of your missing arm, Lady Nimwen. He believed a disability was no excuse to not do something. He would say 'I have no legs, what of it? I can beat any of you lot in a race! I'll prove it here and now.' For him, a disability was something which could only make someone stronger. He used to tell me to turn my physical frailty and weak lungs to my advantage. That I could still do whatever I put my mind to as long as stood up on my own two feet and just tried."

"What about the two year-old then?" Nimwen asked.

"He'd take her and cuddle her, calling her too cute to be real."

"Oh my," Nimwen chuckled. She then remembered something he brought up earlier. "Wait, did you say you were physically frail?"

"Yes, what about it?" he asked, looking at her evenly.

"Nothing, I just assumed it was a side effect of the experiment you talked about."

"I was born frail. It worsened and I started to have bad lungs because of the experiment, but I have always been weaker than everyone around me. It's just a fact of life. I will never use it at as a reason why I can't do something because I was showed it was an excuse and one I used as crutch."

Nimwen felt a pang of guilt. Here she was complaining about her condition, when Mahvir had been suffering much worse for much longer. She was being childish, and petulant. "I wanted to say, _ir abelas_ for my behavior," she apologized. "It is still a bit difficult adjusting."

"Lady Nimwen, don't apologize. I was born this way, you're arm's been gone for only a month. No one expects you to hit the ground running." He gave her a warm smile, one that felt like a father would give his daughter. "No one, but you it seems."

"I guess, after being on top for so long, I don't know how to feel like a student again. The Inquisitor should know how to do something as simple as hold her staff, no?"

"Then, while in this room, you're not the Inquisitor. You're a mother, learning to stand again for your daughter's and her own future. Strip away how others define you and look on how you define yourself. As long as that hasn't been lost in the grand title 'Inquisitor,' you can learn to fight again."

His words truly hit home for Nimwen. She felt something stir in her, a spark that had long since been extinguished finally come back to light. "You're right," she nodded. She stood, more determined than she had been before. "Come on, I want to try again."

"Then try again." Mahvir pulled himself to his feet. "And again and again until you are running, Lady Nimwen."

The mage breathed in, steeling herself. She tightened her grip on Shockmaw, pointing it downward. Then, she moved. She counted the steps of in her head as she sent bolts at the wall. When before she would have used her other hand to twist the staff, she used her elbow to brace the staff against as she turned it. _'Come on.'_ She adjusted her grip just as she slammed the end of her staff down, sending electricity through the ground.

"I...I did it." A grin broke out onto her face. "I did it!"

"You did," Mahvir agreed. "It seems your mental block was your standing outside this room. Well done on overcoming it."

Nimwen put Shockmaw back on her back and then reached over to pull Mahvir into a hug. " _Ma serannas, lethallin,_ " she said.

He chuckled and awkwardly returned the hug with his untied arm. "You've overcome the first step. I believe you will be ready by the time your soldiers head for the temple."

"I think so too," Nimwen said, still smiling.

"Inquisitor?"

Immediately Nimwen frowned. "Shit."

"Who is down here?" Footsteps echoed as someone descended the stairs.

Nimwen groaned. "Just as I got it together."

The footsteps stopped. Cassandra stood by the stairs, looking at the two elves. "What is going on?" she asked. Her eyes widened when she saw Shockmaw strapped to Nimwen's back. "Your staff?"

"Well, I am a mage, Cassandra. We tend to keep staffs with us," Nimwen joked, trying to avoid the inevitable.

"What are you doing down here, Inquisitor?" the Seeker asked as as she approached them. "And who is this?"

"She is simply Nimwen in this room, if you would, Seeker." Mahvir gave Cassandra an awkward bow. "As for who I am, that is a far more interesting question than one might believe. If you seek a name, you may call me Mahvir."

"You are the informant that Leliana spoke of?" Cassandra asked with a raised brow. "What are you doing in a basement, alone, with the Inquisitor?"

"He's helping me train," Nimwen said. "I can't just sit around and be useless, Cassandra. I need to learn how to fight again so that I can help. I'm going to Dirthamen's Temple and I don't care what anyone says. I know what you're going to say, but-"

"Hold on, what do you think I was going to say?" asked Cassandra.

Nimwen paused. "W-well, you were going to say that I mustn't rush things and that going to the Temple would be dangerous, but that isn't going to stop me-"

"I would have said no such thing," Cassandra denied.

Nimwen gave her an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

The Seeker looked almost offended. "Of course not. I applaud you for wanting to get back to your former strength, though I'd be concerned if you were taking it too far. She isn't, is she?" she asked Mahvir.

"Not at all, we are going at her pace." He smiled. "In fact, you're being here presents a marvelous opportunity." He moved behind Cassandra and tapped her in between the shoulder blades with his staff. "You can help." He used the staff to partially push Cassandra into the center of the room. Though, it looked more like he was tapping her in the back and she would then moved because it was annoying.

"Well I, I may not be a mage, but if I could help," Cassandra said.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Nimwen said.

"No, this is important. If I can assist in you getting back on your feet, my time is yours."

"Thanks, Cass," Nimwen said. Her eyes widened. "Wait, you were supposed to be watching Lori."

"She is napping right now, and I grew worried when you did not return," Cassandra explained. "I left her with one of the sisters, however, and she would inform me if anything went wrong-"

"Hi, mama!"

Everyone but Mahvir jumped and Nimwen's eyes went to the stairs, where a little pair of blue eyes was poking out mischievously. "Lori, what are you doing?" Nimwen asked.

"Aunt Cass leave, so I go," Lori replied.

"But-but I left you with Sister Ann," Cassandra sputtered.

Lori giggled. "She slow, I fast, like a wolf!"

"More like you are sneaky like a wolf," Mahvir stated, laughter in eyes and a smile starting on his thin lips.

Nimwen sighed. "Do you promise to behave, Lori?"

The little girl nodded.

"Very well, you can stay. Just make sure you don't get in the way."

"I won't, I won't," Lori said as she toddled over to Mahvir. She hugged the elven man by his legs. "Hi, brother."

"Hello, Lorien." He reached into his bag and pulled out a carved raven. "I made this for you." He winked. "Now, you have a raven you can pet, safely, all you want."

"Yaay!" Lori squealed as she snatched the raven from his hand. She tugged on his robe. "Down," she ordered sweetly.

"By your command, Princess Lorien." He knelt, used the staff to aid him to ground.

The toddler stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. " _Ma serannas_ , big brother."

"You're quite welcome, Lorien." He leaned his staff against his shoulder and rubbed her head. "Now, will you play with your raven by the wall, sister?"

Lori nodded. "Let go, Burton," she said to the raven as she waddled over to the wall.

"Why does she call him brother?" Cassandra asked Nimwen.

"If you think about, Seeker, all elvhen are related in one way or another." Mahvir pulled himself up with his staff. "We can each trace our blood back to at least one of the original nine first elvhen or _evanuris_ if you would rather. Though, from what I got from Mythal two of the nine never had children thus you have say you're related to them through their brothers. Many elvhen can clam blood ties to Mythal and Elgar'nan especially. I swear those two had at least two kids every century or so. Uh, according to what I have heard at least."

"I...see," Cassandra replied, unconvinced.

"I think she's just grown attached to him," Nimwen added. "Honestly, there are worse things than her calling him 'brother.' She might have mistaken him for her-" Nimwen stopped herself before the word left her mouth. "N-nevermind. So let's get started, shall we?" she asked quickly.

"All right. I think it was good thing I brought along a wooden shield and sword for if we got that far." He picked up the items and with his one hand and held them out to Cassandra. "A real warrior will be far better than me tripping over my feet trying to act like one." He gave her a charming smile.

"How resourceful of you," Cassandra said, eyeing Mahvir with a hint of suspicion as she took the sword and shield. "So, how much have you gotten done so far?"

"Lady Nimwen can use her staff just fine. I now wish to show her a real combat situation since you're here, Seeker. Don't worry I won't be shooting you with lightning." He moved so he stood across from Cassandra, his staff held in the position he had shown Nimwen. "Attack me like you mean to kill me, Seeker."

"Very well," Cassandra replied. With sword and shield in hand, she charged at Mahvir.

He ducked below her sword. The staff pressed to his back for balance. Then he launched up faster than a snake and head butted Cassandra in the face.

"Argh!" The Seeker hissed.

Nimwen tried holding back her snickers.

Cassandra whirled on him. In the blink of an eye Mahvir was behind her the staff spread across his back further than it should've been with two arms for balance. It appeared as if he had Fade stepped to being behind her, not using any gestures at all to do so. He turned.

"Enough, Solas!" Cassandra snapped.

The air seemed to drop in temperature. Nimwen's eyes widened just as Cassandra's did when she realized her mistake.

Mahvir tilted his head to one side. "So, I am a mage bent on destroying this world. Good, at least you'll attack me next time as if you mean it. Though, hold back tiny bit, I am nowhere near the same level as he is."

Cassandra blinked, a redness to her cheeks as she looked to Nimwen in apology. The elf barely noticed though, because she was still looking at Mahvir. Ever since she'd met him, there had been a part of her that felt like he reminded her of Solas. It wasn't until Cassandra's slip up that Nimwen finally acknowledged how he _physically_ reminded her of Solas. It wasn't much, they were the same height, though many could say the same. No, Nimwen saw Solas in his jaw line, in the noticeable dimple on his chin. The same one Solas had passed onto Lori.

"I think I'm done for today," Nimwen said quietly.

Mahvir blinked. He looked at her, his dark purple eyes almost sad. "Very well, Lady Nimwen." The staff slid so he could lean against it. He turned to the binding on his arm and tugged the knot with his teeth until it loosened and he could free his arm. With that hand now free, he pulled out a few of his herbs. His breathing, though not as tight as it had been the day before, was strained.

"Cass, could you take Lori to her room, and see that she stays there?" Nimwen asked.

"Of course, Inquisitor," the Seeker replied quietly. She walked over and lifted the toddler into her arms. "Come on, little one."

"'Kay Aunt Cass," Lori said, still holding Burton in her hand. "Bye, mama, bye, brother!" she said, waving her toy at them.

"I'll see you later, _da'len_ ," Nimwen replied, forcing herself to smile. When the two left up the stairs, she dropped her facade. "Tell me the truth," she said, turning to Mahvir. "Who are you? Who are you really? What is your connection to Solas?"

"What truths you seek," he started. "The knowledge you wish for. It will only lead you to darker understanding, Lady Nimwen. Things best left buried in the blackness of the city deep in the Fade."

"I don't care," she said. She stepped towards him. "I want to- no, I _need_ to know. Who are you to him? Why do you sound like him, look like him?"

"Wow, I sound like him. I am uncertain if I should take that as a compliment or insult. I must have grown chattier too then."

Nimwen bit her lip, frustrated. "Don't make me ask again."

"Lady Nimwen, the man I was twenty centuries ago died _months_ before Mythal did. Solas never knew any of what Mythal did back then, the secret she kept from the others and what happened between twin brothers because of it. I am Shartan, Sahlin, Mahvir, but the name I was given at birth was Dirth. I was Mythal's secret mistake."

"Dirth, as in…" Nimwen's eyes widened. "Dirthamen."

He bowed his head. "What's left of him," he stated. "What you must understand was I lived for my brother, Lady Nimwen. He protected me from the moment we were born from who we both believed was our father: Elgar'nan. Elgar'nan was strict, stern, and commanding man. He was the perfect material for a general to lead our People to victory during a dark time, but he was a terrible father. Solas was one of the first three of our People. He was, he _is_ Elgar'nan's younger, twin brother."

"You said who you _believed_ to be your father." Nimwen's mind was trying to deny what she was hearing, but the facts were right in front of her. "Elgar'nan wasn't your father was he?"

' _No, and we both know who it really is.'_

"Solas is your father, isn't he?"

Mahvir bowed his head. "He is. But Elgar'nan was still Falon'Din's father. We were born on the same day but weren't conceived at the same time. You see Mythal learned she was pregnant through magical means. She saw the child and told Elgar'nan. We were then slaves, looking to break free of a great darkness. Elgar'nan was enraged by this and, for the first time, he turned his rage on her. Mythal, frightened and needing comfort, ran to her closest friend, her lover's brother: Solas. It was the first time they lay together.

"Nine months later she gave birth. Both my brother and I born early into the world. I earlier than him, which made me frail and weak. Mythal named my brother Falon and me Dirth. She never told any of us I wasn't Elgar'nan's son and thus I grew up believing my father was Elgar'nan and my uncle, Solas."

Nimwen was silent. She held onto Shockmaw like it was a lifeline. The air felt chill, and Nimwen realized she was making the temperature drop. She bowed her head, feeling herself tremble. Something in her seemed to break, like the snap of an icicle. It caused a dam to crumble and she began to weep.

"Dirthamen died twenty-centuries ago," he repeated. "He died the day Falon'Din tried to kill him. The day he learned that his life had been a lie woven by his mother. That if he had looked like his blood father she would have killed him in a heartbeat to keep her secret. The fact that to his mother he was a mistake, to his brother he was less than an instinct, and to his blood father one of the corrupt _evanuris_. I am not saying I didn't deserve the fate, but it shattered me. And I ran, I ran from everything."

"Shut up," Nimwen said as she pulled him into an embrace. "You didn't deserve it, you didn't deserve any of it," she sobbed. She buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. _Ir abelas_ , Mahvir." Soon her cries turned to hollow laughter. "T-two, he has _two_ ," she laughed. It was a sad broken laughter. "Two children, and he knows nothing about either of them! Why, we must be cursed, all of us!" she cackled. In her mind she felt horrified that she was laughing. It was like watching somebody else take over her body. She wanted to stop, but she couldn't. She broke away from Mahvir and started to run her hand through her hair. "We must be cursed to suffer, you, me, Solas, Lori, we're all cursed. That has to be it, right? Why else would the universe hate us so much?" she asked, raising her tear-stricken face to look at Mahvir. Her eyes were wide and she had a twisted smile. "Right? That's right isn't it, Mahvir?" Her fist tightened and she began pulling at her hair.

"Enough, Lady Nimwen." He unwound her fingers from her hair. His eyes were soft for a moment then turned sharp, almost desperate. "You are not cursed and neither is Lorien. Both of you have a chance to get him back. She has a chance to know her father. And you have chance to at great happiness. Never say you're cursed."

Nimwen wanted to scream at him, to hit him. But one look in his eyes, and Nimwen felt all fight leave her. She was left feeling empty, and sad. "What chance is there?" she asked quietly. "We may not even be able to convince him not to kill the world. How am I supposed to convince him to stay?"

"He loves you more than anything," Mahvir told her. "As long as it is you, he will listen. You might have to force him to stay and force the words into his ears, but you alone can convince him this world is his home."

"What about you?" Nimwen asked. "Would he not listen if you told him the truth?"

"He would never listen to one of the _evanuris_ , Nimwen. The moment he sees me he would think his trapping of the other six didn't work. It would only enforce his desire to destroy this world. To him, I am not his son. I am the son of his brother. It is for the best he never knows what Mythal did."

"No," Nimwen shook her head. "You can't think like that. If Solas is to learn about Lori he needs to learn about you too. You're his _son_."

Mahvir looked at the ground. Then his gaze was locked on Nimwen's, intense and full of pain. "Nimwen, if you're willing, I will show you something."

"All right," Nimwen nodded.

"Sit down and close your eyes." Mahvir had already slid to the floor. "If I showed you standing you would wake in pain, because you will have fallen to the ground," he explained.

"That's not very encouraging, Mahvir," Nimwen said as she sat down, Shockmaw across her lap.

Mahvir placed two fingers on her temple. When Nimwen next opened her eyes they were no longer in the basement but rather in a field of mist and stars. The lights close to them had sound coming from, images of places, battles, and more. Even the scents drifted out.

Next to her, Mahvir was now standing. "I had to translate this so it was less chaotic for your mind to understand." He held out his hand. "But this what the experimentations did to me. It locked away my abilities as a mage in exchange to bring out my other ability to see events throughout time. It's why the People called me Dirthamen. I can literally know everything if I so wish."

"This is…" Incredible. That was the only thing she could think of. The last time she had witnessed such an extraordinary sight was when she was in the Fade, and even then the experienced was tainted by fear, and corruption. Not here, though. Here she was surrounded by the beauty and wonder of whatever this place was.

"To explain what this is, it's basically a less chaotic view of what I can see at any given time." Mahvir frowned. "Okay, that doesn't help. It's -Imagine all these panels around us as images, sounds, touch, taste, that I can have flash before me at any given moment."

"And you see this all the time?" Nimwen asked, gazing out at the images around her.

"When I was little I saw brief movements, shadows of what was about to happen. It allowed me dodge whatever attacks my brother made when Elgar'nan was training us. After a time he decided to enhance the ability in me, so yes, I see events: past, present; future, all the time."

"It was him? _He_ experimented on you?" Nimwen asked.

"He would never win the best father award, but, yes, he later enlisted Ghilan'nain in order to enhance and bring out the abilities in me. Elgar'nan was focused on winning the war with the original false gods. To that end he would do anything to get results. And I had wanted to help. Granted asking a seven-year-old, 'do you want to help win this war?' isn't really fair way to ask a kid for permission to experiment on them. In the end, I did get what I had wanted, a brief moment where Elgar'nan didn't think I was useless."

"That's horrible," Nimwen said, a mix of disbelief and disgust. She became even more conscious of the _vallaslin,_ Ghilan'nain's _vallaslin_ , on her head and she wanted to rip them from her face. "So what is it you wanted to show me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry." Mahvir touched her hand. "I know Ghilan'nain means a lot to you."

"She shouldn't, not anymore," Nimwen grumbled.

"Lady Nimwen, the vision of them the Dalish hold to isn't something to be ashamed of. It's like the vision of the Maker now. It's unlikely they will ever know I was Dirthamen if they spoke with me or Solas is Fen'Harel or Flemeth Mythal. We did great things as well terrible. But that's not why I brought you here. Pick a moment from the People's past and I will show it to you, any moment." He smiled at her. "Just not one of the future, that's cheating," he teased.

Nimwen's eyes widened. Anything she wanted? What did she want to see? "I...I don't know," she admitted. "There are so many things from the past. Where would I begin?"

"I can't show everything, it would leave you in a comatose sadly. That much information even I can't bare all at once. If you would like I could show you Solas when he was younger."

"Yes, I would like that," Nimwen said. "When was Solas at his happiest, if you can remember?"

"I don't know his personal feelings, but what I've seen of him, his happiest was with you."

Nimwen blinked. "R-really?"

"Yes, you are his heart. It's hard to explain without actually being him," Mahvir sighed. "I can tell you when he was at his second happiest from what I can see, if you would like?"

"Sure." Nimwen was still focused on the fact that Mahvir said that _she_ was the one who made Solas the most happy? Certainly, Nimwen felt that for her she felt the most content when she was with Solas, but she'd never assumed, even knowing that Solas cared for her, that out of all the centuries he'd lived, their short time together could top all of that. "Show me," she asked.

The mist rushed up around them. Trees grew before Nimwen's eyes until they stood deep in a forest. Color rushed around them in the next moment. The sky was tinted with green and the world seemed lush, lively and felt real.

"What is this?" she asked as she craned her neck to see the tops of the trees.

"A few years after the original false gods were defeated." Mahvir pointed. "There."

In the direction pointed a lone figure was walking towards them. Soon Solas came into view. He looked almost exactly the same, the only difference between the Solas Nimwen knew and this one was he looked younger and wore finer furs than she was used to.

"Yahoooooooooo!" the next moment a figure dropped from the trees and landed on top of Solas. "Got you, Uncle!" The two collapsed into a tangle of legs and arms.

The man who had attacked Solas looked like Mahvir.

"Is that you?" Nimwen asked.

Mahvir chuckled. "Oh, Maker, no."

"Falon!" Solas growled. The next moment the two of them were rolling on the ground.

"I can beat you this time, Uncle." Falon laughed.

"You can't," stated a calm voice from the tree above the two.

"Get down here and help me, Dirth!" Falon shouted. "We can beat, Uncle."

"I just got up here."

"Get down then."

"But I just got _up_."

Nimwen chuckled. "He looks helpless," she said as she watched the scene unfold.

"Wait for it," Mahvir told her.

Within moments the distracted Falon was flipped and tossed like a ragdoll into a pile of fallen leaves. The leaves flew up over Falon and buried him.

"See, I told you," Dirth muttered from the tree. "It's better to-!" He yelped when Solas pulled Dirth down from the tree.

"What are you two doing here?" Solas asked them, smiling and eyes shining with laughter.

"Dirth was wanting to learn tree climbing." Falon struggled out of leaves. He spat a few out. "Then you came along and pounce!"

Nimwen eyed Solas. There was a liveliness to him that she had never seen before. He looked younger, not just in appearance, but in the way he carried himself. The way he interacted with the young boys had her envisioning him doing the same, but with a little girl instead.

"Pounce was it?" Solas cocked an eyebrow.

Falon had just picked himself out of the leaves.

The next moment, Solas was charging.

"Uncle, mercy, mercy!" Falon backed away. He dodged Solas before running away. "Dirth, help me!"

Dirth was seated on the ground still looking dazed from when Solas had pulled from the tree. "There's a tree."

"What?" Falon glanced at him then ran smack into a tree.

"I warned you about the tree."

Solas let a howl of laughter. "You're your own worst enemy, Falon."

"You were so cute," Nimwen said to Mahvir, smiling.

"I suppose a few centuries of life would make me 'cute,'" he joked in reply.

"Then shout 'Tree!' next time," Falon muttered as he rubbed his head. It was easier to see the difference between Dirth and Falon now. While Dirth had purple eyes, Falon had Mythal's yellow-gold eyes. His black hair was cropped short while Dirth's was long, falling passed his shoulders. Outside of this they did look like they would have been identical twins.

"He looks so happy," Nimwen said, her eyes on Solas. "I can't remember ever seeing him like this."

"Looking happy and being happy aren't the same thing. He learned to hide much of his emotion so those around him would never see his pain. It goes both ways. It becomes harder to see when someone is truly happy or sad." Mahvir placed his hand on Nimwen's shoulder.

Solas was now seated on a boulder. "Do you two want a tent?" he asked the younger men.

"No!" Falon had gone bright red.

Dirth laughed.

"Really? You seemed ready to argue with Dirth like you were his lover, Falon," Solas poked fun at Falon.

Falon's enter face had gone bright red.

Dirth fell back into the leaves, hand over his mouth as he snickered.

Nimwen raised a brow. "Did he really just say that?" she chuckled.

Mahvir didn't reply. His eyes were locked on Falon. The next moment the images around them shattered and Mahvir screamed, his hands clapped over his ears. Images flashed by. Falon stood before Dirth, both now in finery. Dirth had his back pressed against wall, blood pooling around and eyes wide as he stared up at his brother.

"Falon'Din," the sound was weak, catching as Dirth whispered the name. "Why?"

"It's nothing personal, _brother_ ," Falon'Din spat. "It's high time I ruled alone." Falon'Din lifted the bloodied dagger so it pointed at Dirth's throat. "You've always taken half of _everything_ since the day we were born! I am sick of it. Sick knowing that you, _you_ were never even my full blooded twin!"

Beside Nimwen Mahvir had curled on the floor his hands gripping his ears.

"Mahvir!" Nimwen cried, crouching beside him. She grabbed at one of his hands, trying to pry it away so that he could hear her. "Mahvir listen to me. This isn't real, this is the past! You're here with my, in the basement of the Grand Cathedral, none of this is happening." She glanced a look at the scene playing out in front of her, and her stomach twisted. She shook her head and kept her focus on Mahvir. "Listen to me, _lethallin_ , don't let the past control you. You are here, in the present. Remember that." She took his hand in hers and gripped it tight. "Look at me, please."

Mahvir seemed frozen.

A scream of agony made Nimwen look back at the past. Falon'Din was over Dirthamen. The dagger was now embedded into Dirthamen's shoulder.

"Brother," Dirthamen gasped the word, sounding as if he were struggling through pain and being unable to breath.

Falon'Din gripped Dirthamen's face with his free hand. "I can have all of it." His hand moved as he started to draw something on Dirthamen's face with Dirthamen's own blood. A smile was curling Falon'Din's face. "Without you, all that was ours is _mine_ , All the territory you held, the slaves; the magical knowledge, _mine_."

Dirthamen was staring at his brother, tear slid down his face.

Falon'Din seemed not notice as he continued to draw with Dirthamen's blood. "Or instead of killing you, I could make you _serve_ me." His voice had softened. The image he was painting on Dirthamen's face was starting to become clear. It was the interaciate _vallaslin_ of Falon'Din. "No one would question your fall from power, nor if you signed your life to me. How about it? Become nameless, be the insect you really are."

Dirthamen reached up and took hold of Falon'Din's wrist, stopping him from finishing the marks. "You are my brother," while the words were weak it seemed Dirthamen was trying to cling to them as a lifeline. "I won't serve you." More tears slid down his face, smearing the fresh blood marks. "I stayed by you because you were my brother. Because I loved you more than anything in this world."

"You were never my brother. Your existence is a mistake."

"No more," Mahvir whispered. "No more!" The images snapped. The next moment Nimwen was back in the basement, still seated across from Mahvir. He had moved his hand from her temple. " _Ir abelas_ ," he whispered. "I should have better control."

"Are you alright?" Nimwen asked, concern etched into her features. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Talk to me."

"I sometimes struggle with that moment," he whispered. "It's my darkest place. Even worse than when I couldn't save Andraste." He gave a bitter laugh. "Stupid thing to hold as worse than losing the woman you loved." He shook his head. "It's in the past."

"That doesn't mean it shouldn't hurt," Nimwen said. She wrapped her arm around him and pulled him into a hug. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she said to him. "He was wrong, you're not a mistake. Never believe that."

Mahvir chuckled. "I stopped believing I was mistake a long time ago, Nimwen. The moment is simply one I can sometimes forget happened and other times I know it is why I am here now. If Falon'Din had never learned I was Solas's son, I would have stayed with him until they killed Mythal. In one reality I would have left then and in another I would have stayed. If I had stayed this world would have been destroyed. If I had left, Solas would have still won and the veil would have been created. The only difference is Shartan wouldn't have existed, the Dales wouldn't have been ours, and so much more Shartan accomplished."

"How did he find out you were Solas's son?" she asked. "I thought nobody knew?"

"I knew from the moment I had first gotten these full powers that Elgar'nan wasn't my blood father. I shoved the images away and ran from them because I didn't want know who my blood father was. I feared losing Falon'Din. I knew, from the time was fifteen, I knew my brother one day would hate me, but I thought I could change his mind. If I just stayed with him, was there for him that it would mean something in the end. And I ran again from those images, discarded them as time went by as not being true. Until they came true. I learned Solas was my father from Mythal that very day. I don't really know how Falon'Din learned who my father was."

"Why did Mythal decide to tell you after all that time?" Nimwen asked.

"She let it slip," he stated. "You see, I had come to her in such a state that it caused a break in my powers again. I saw flashes of the past where I put it together piece by piece. In my state Mythal tried to calm me and finally let slip she slept with her closest friend. She never outright said his name. I left after that and ran again. This time I ran from myself. I didn't confront Solas and tell him because I knew he wouldn't accept me. I was like the others, an _evunaris_. And he was doing everything in his power to stop us."

"You don't know that," Nimwen said. "I saw how he was with you and Falon'Din. He loved you. I'm sure he still does."

"Oh, yes, he loves us, all seven of us, and in the same moment, hates us more than anything in this world and the Fade." Mahvir stood and leaned against his staff. "You saw what Falon'Din was like near the end of our time. The others were no better than him by then. All they cared about was power, territory, and their image to the People. Making sure they were always seen as Gods." Mahvir had his back to her. "I only cared about staying by my brother. I never uttered a word against anything though I could see where our greed would lead us. Though I knew we would destroy _everything_. What kind of person sacrifices the world just remain by their brother even knowing that brother would betray them?"

"A person who loves his family," Nimwen said gently. "I'm not saying I agree with what happened, but you didn't do what you did out of greed and power-lust. You did it because you loved your brother and didn't want to become his enemy. You are a good person, Mahvir, the world just has a habit of taking advantage of good people."

Mahvir smiled at her. "To answer your original question, I do know what would have happened if I told Solas back then. I do know he wouldn't have accepted me because of what Elgar'nan did, I know. It would take a lot for Solas to look at me and see a son rather than Dirthamen, one of the _evunaris_. That is why I never want to tell him I am his son. I can handle seeing the rejection in possible futures and possible pasts, but not in this reality."

"But you're a part of his family, you're _my_ family now too," Nimwen insisted. "You said it yourself that you can only see possible futures, so why not try? If it's any consolation, I'm sure Lori will be thrilled to learn she actually has a brother," Nimwen smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Because a possible future simply means a decision point to make that future into the present," Mahvir explained. "For now, let's focus on getting you ready to leave in a week. We have a long while until we're ready to face Solas."

Nimwen sighed. "Very well," she conceded. She supposed she had to pick her battles, and while she was not done with this one, she could hold off until later. "How about we practice some more before calling it a day? You're invited to dinner with Lori and I by the way."

"More free food, you're going to spoil me and the birds." Then he winced. "You'll be able to actually hear them now you know of my past. _Ir abelas_ , Nimwen."

"I'm sure they will be most interesting to hear," Nimwen chuckled.

"Oh, yes, their constant arguing, fun to hear."


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** **Sorry it's been so long my lovelies, forgive us for the delay!**

 **SHOUTOUTS GO OUT TO: su4knuj** **, Parliament of Ravens. Xanks, DarkPantheraClaws, and all the other awesome people who have been so supportive of our story!**

Chapter 6:

"How does it feel?" Cassandra asked.

"Still getting used to it," Nimwen replied, adjusting the reins in her grasp. "Still a bit of a challenge keeping the reins in the hook," she added.

A week had passed since her first training session with Mahvir, and the journey to the Temple of Dirthamen was now underway. Nimwen managed to make great progress, practicing with Mahvir and, occasionally, Cassandra everyday. She could wield her staff with relative ease, and she'd learned to cast many of her spells with just one hand.

Three days prior to setting off though, a package appeared labelled to the Inquisitor. Inside, Nimwen found the most bizarre device, and two letters explaining just what it was. The first was from Sera.

' _quisitor,_

 _How you been, yeah? Lil' Inky good? She better be. Anyway, I knew you'd be gettin' in the dumps soon, so I thought I'd cheer you up. Dag and I got this idea for this thing- okay, it was her idea but I convinced her it wasn't "Too forward" or whatever she said. Anyway, it's an arm. Your arm. Actually it's a hook, but it'll do you good. Widdle's the best at this stuff and she made it good, just for you. You're gonna be able to do all sorts of stuff now. And you'll look like a pirate too! For real though, don't get all mopey again. I don't want you actin' like you did when Solas first took off, 'specially since I'm not there to help out. Take care of the pirate arm, and don't break it! Dagna worked real hard._

 _-Sera_

After she managed to stop the tears of happiness that started as she read the archer's letter, Nimwen managed to read the second one, from Dagna.

 _Dear Inquisitor,_

 _I hope you like this! I can say without exaggerating that this has to be the best thing that I've ever crafted. Well, technically that is actually the rune used to stop Samson's armor, but if you take into account this isn't magic then yes this is the best thing. Anyways, the base of it is designed to fit over what is left of your arm, and the hook will be good for just about any of your needs. Don't worry, the base will fit. I had Sera get your measurements while you were asleep. Hope you don't mind. Please don't mind. Moving on, I also sent a variety of extra hooks in for anything the main one can't do, or if the main one breaks. Which it shouldn't. Seriously that thing is as close to unbreakable as it gets. Nothing less for you! If you have any problems just send a message to my shop. Oh, yeah, I have a shop now, isn't it great? Good luck Inquisitor and thank you for taking a chance on me, I would not be where I am without you. Give my best to Lady Lori!_

 _Yours,_

 _Dagna_

Nimwen felt utter gratitude and joy even before she put on her new limb. The base was about the same length as her old forearm, with the hook starting where her wrist would have been. Just as Dagna promised, the base fit snug around her stump, and only came off when she pushed the proper buttons and twisted it as the instructions said to. It was still an adjustment learning how to use her prosthetic, but she had high hopes she would soon be able to use it naturally.

"You are going to kill yourself," Nimwen heard Cassandra say.

"I'm fine, I have the reins in my actual hand too," she replied.

"Not you, him," Cassandra clarified.

This made Nimwen look over at Mahvir for the first time since they had set out. Sometime during the trip he had moved from riding normally to laying on the horse's back, his back against the horse's neck one leg propped up over the other. His arm was tucked behind his head while in his other hand held the book _This Shit is Weird_ by Varric. Deceit was nested on top of his head, her blue eyes moving as if she was also reading. And Fear was on top of the horse's head. Every now and again Fear would actually tug the horse's ear to steer it.

"What in Thedas are you doing?" Nimwen laughed at the sight.

"Reading," Mahvir stated as he turned a page. "It's quite the read too."

"Finding my exploits entertaining?" asked the mage.

"Finding Varric's description of Solas entertaining. And what happened is also rather amusing. You know he embellished quite a lot of this, right?" Mahvir chuckled.

"It's not a surprise, he is always exaggerating," Cassandra said.

"You know you love his books," Nimwen teased as she fiddled with her prosthetic.

Cassandra raised a brow. "Do be careful, Inquisitor, I don't want you falling off your horse."

"I got it," Nimwen assured the Seeker. "I just want to figure this thing out. Dagna added a bunch of stuff." Along with the interchangeable hooks, Nimwen's prosthetic had a couple of different mechanisms within it. There was a button that allowed her to change the length of the hook, a hidden compartment that she hoped would come in handy someday, along with a few more buttons that she didn't know what they did.

Mahvir snapped the book closed. "Someone's coming." He turned on the horse.

"Warning!" Deceit shrieked at him as she flapped her wings to stay on his head. "You need to warn, Dirthy."

"Fear, you can stop steering the horse," Mahvir told the other raven ignoring Deceit.

"It was fun though," Fear snapped his beak in annoyance.

Sure enough a moment later several Dalish hunters stepped onto the road to block their path. "Stop there," ordered one of them. Then his eyes widened. "Inquisitor?" he asked.

Nimwen eyed the newcomer. "Who's clan are you from, _lethallin_?"

"Mine, _da'len_ ," the next moment Hawen stepped out, leaning against his staff and looking up at Nimwen. "What brings the Inquisition towards a Temple of Dirthamen?" he asked. His eyes slid from Nimwen to Mahvir and narrowed when he noticed Mahvir had no _vallaslin_.

"We seek to learn more from the temple," Nimwen explained. "Have you come to do the same, _hahren_?"

"Yes and no," stated the keeper. He frowned and looked at the few hunters with him. The clan was half the size it had been the last time Nimwen had seen them.

"You've had some of your clan start following Fen'Harel and, I believe I am correct in assuming, they're here on Fen'Harel's order. Thus you came after them to get them back from the Dread Wolf's clutches." Mahvir frowned. "This also means it's more than likely the main entrance is covered." He looked at Nimwen. "I might have another way we can enter."

"Really? We found no other entrance last time we were here," said Nimwen.

Mahvir blinked. "I hope not, that defeats the purpose of hidden entrances."

"How would you know about a secret entrance?" Cassandra asked, suspicious.

"I know everything, isn't that apparent?" Mahvir joked. He coughed. "On a more serious note, I've been to this temple a few times before now and spent a great deal of time here."

"What purpose would you have in a haunted temple?" the Seeker pressed.

Mahvir blinked a few times. "What purpose did _you_ have in a haunted temple?"

"That temple is part of my People's history," Hawen stated. "And is currently overrun with agents of Fen'Harel," he growled the last bit.

Nimwen tried to hide her flinch at the way he spoke of Fen'Harel. It was hard to now associate the figure who drew the disdain of her people with the man she had loved, who she _still_ loved. She wanted to pray that he would not become the villain the Dalish already saw him as, but then remembered she no longer had gods to pray to. "We want them out of the temple just as you do, _hahren_ ," she said to the older elf.

Before Nimwen could finish speaking or ask the Keeper to accompany them, Mahvir had slid down from his stead. "Yes, you should come with us, _hahren_." Mahvir smiled at Hawen. "You know, make certain we don't trip over something important."

"If you wished to accompany us, we would appreciate the support," Cassandra said.

Hawen scowled at Mahvir. "Very well." He turned to the clan and his First. He spoke with them briefly before returning with a hunter at his side. "Where is this hidden entrance you spoke of?"

"Well… hidden." Mahvir grinned and shrugged.

"That's the way to answer!" Deceit let out a few cawing laughs from the top of Mahvir's head.

"That's the way to get that mortal to hate you all the more, Dirthamen," Fear snapped his beak angrily.

Nimwen rolled her eyes, then remembered she was supposed to pretend she couldn't hear them. Since learning of Mahvir's true identity, Nimwen had been allowed the "privilege" of hearing Fear and Deceit's voices. After the initial shock of hearing full sentences uttered from the beaks of birds, the mage soon learned the behavior she'd witnessed from the birds prior was directly reflected in their words. Only she and Mahvir could hear them, so she had to pretend like she was unaware lest the others think she was mad.

"Be clear, Mahvir. Where are we going?" Cassandra inquired.

"Sadly into the brush. The entrance is buried a ways into the trees." He pointed in the general direction of the temple. "We're going to have to walk from here. The mounts are too large for that area." He pulled his staff from his back. "It's about an hours normal paced walk from here."

"Let's get started then," Nimwen said. "We'll find a place for the mounts and then we'll begin the walk."

"Agreed," added Cassandra.

Mahvir nodded. He helped them tie the mounts just off the road where they would remain unseen. When they were done Fear leapt into the air swooped down. His talons raked Deceit. "Off, my perch."

Deceit snapped her beak and launch into the air. "Don't mess up my feathers, oaf!" She landed on Mahvir's staff.

Fear landed on his shoulders. "Humph, you already look like something a cat coughed up."

Deceit spat at him. Her beak clacking with rage.

"Be nice you two," Nimwen scolded the birds.

"Are you sure those things are tame?" the Seeker asked, eyeing the ravens.

"Are any ravens ever tame?" Mahvir asked in reply. "These two are more likely to rip out one another's throats than disobey me."

"Only because we can't," huffed Fear. "That is the one and only time I listened to you," he glared at Deceit, "and now we're bound to this," he gestured his head towards Mahvir, "this... I will come up with an insult later!"

Deceit cawed in laughter.

"See to it that they don't give away our position," Cassandra said to Mahvir.

"They know when to shut their beaks," Mahvir assured Cassandra. "Or we can cook them for our next meal."

"What?" Deceit's beak dropped her blue eyes wide with shock.

Fear snapped his beak in his version of laughter.

"An odd choice in companion, _da'len_ ," Hawen stated, eyeing Mahvir and the two ravens.

"I assure you, _hahren_ , you can't live without them by the end of the day." Mahvir gave an elegant bow.

Fear snapped his beak, flapping to stay on Mahvir's shoulder.

"You wanted the shoulder, Fear." Deceit prend her feathers, eyes shining.

"We'll see." Hawen eyed Mahvir with the normal mistrust most Dalish showed their barefaced brethren.

"Let's go," Nimwen said. She started to get off her horse, but realized that she had gotten her hook tangled in the reins. "Give me a minute," she said as she tried untangling the reins with her right hand.

"You're sure you don't need help?" Cassandra offered.

"I'm fine," the mage insisted, feeling her cheeks grow pink when no progress had been made. "Come on," she grumbled to herself as she tugged against the knot. She was fairly sure she was making it worse, but she would not admit defeat. She grew frustrated and started pulling her stump arm hoping to dislodge the hook. All this did was make her horse give out an angry neigh when his head was tugged. "Sorry," she said to the creature.

Fear landed on the horse's neck. He placed one taloned foot on her prosthetic then hopped onto it. He worked his beak through the tangle until it fell away from the hook.

"There." He shook himself, fluffing his feathers in importance. "That had better get me a tidbit later, mortal." He leapt into the air and returned to Mahvir's shoulder.

" _Ma serannas_ ," she said, still embarrassed that she had to be saved by a bird.

"I am sure you will get the hang of it soon," Cassandra said, trying to be assuring.

"Let's hope so," Nimwen said, dismounting at last.

Mahvir was looking off in another direction. He looked up at Deceit and gave a sharp whistle.

Deceit launched herself into the air. "Slave driver," she muttered. "You'd better not finish that book until I get back." She vanished into the distance.

"We should be off," Mahvir stated, his tone even. Without another word he headed into the brush.

Hawen took a deep breath and looked at Nimwen. "After you, _da'len_."

Nimwen nodded and fell into line, Cassandra following. As they followed Mahvir through the brush, Nimwen continued to examine her prosthetic. She wanted to get the hang of it before she ended up making another mistake like with the reins; though once in the temple mistakes could turn deadly. She admired the craftsmanship on the arm, the intricate details laced in.

' _I need to thank Dagna once I get back. Maybe a fruit basket? She likes those,'_ Nimwen decided as she traced the etchings. She turned her arm over and made a puzzled frown when she found a button she hadn't seen before. It was small and located on the top inside of the prosthetic, where the inside of her elbow would have been. _'Wonder what this does?'_ she pondered. Curious, she pressed it. The sound of slicing metal filled the air. Nimwen gave a yelp.

"What's wrong?" Cassandra asked, jumping to attention.

Nimwen stared wide-eyed at her arm, holding it as far away as she could. "W-what is _that_?" she stammered. Sticking up from the prosthetic was a blade, longer than the false arm itself, made of gleaming silverite. It came to a lethal point and followed the same curve as the prosthetic base.

"Something I would rather not have pointed towards me," stated Mahvir without turning.

"Ignore him." Fear flapped down so he was on Nimwen's prosthetic. "It's a beautiful blade." He tapped it with one claw and leaned as the claw made the metal ring. "Good sound too. Many could fall without ever seeing this weapon coming. It could inspire great fear." His eyes gleamed. He ran his talon over the blade.

"What is that raven doing?" the hunter who had come with them and Hawen asked.

"Appreciating the artistry," Nimwen joked. "Now, how am I supposed to make it go down?"

Fear blinked at her and then tapped the button with his beak. The blade hissed back into the arm. "Use that well, little mortal." He leapt off her arm and returned to Mahvir's shoulder.

"I will," Nimwen smiled. _'Thank you, Dagna. Your fruit basket just got bigger.'_

"What was that?" Cassandra asked.

Nimwen blinked, realizing she'd just spoken to Fear aloud. "Oh, nothing, let's carry on, shall we?"

They walked for over an hour more because Mahvir set a slower pace than a normal walk. Then, at least, he stopped by a massive tree. "We're here." He moved over to the roots.

"I don't see any stone walls like the temple has," the hunter pointed out.

The next moment Mahvir vanished between two of the biggest roots. "What's taking you so long? It's this way!"

Nimwen looked between the two roots, trying to find where he went. When she found the entrance she managed to squeeze inside. "When did you find this passage?" she asked.

The tip of Mahvir's staff was giving off a faint light. "I built this place, Lady Nimwen," he whispered and glanced up. He placed a finger over his lips and winked.

The next moment the hunter slithered down next to them. Hawen followed.

"Come on, Cass," Nimwen said.

Soon the Seeker was inside. "Strange, I never expected us to return here," she said.

"Feeling nostalgic?" Nimwen asked.

"Hardly."

"This way." Mahvir started off the moment Cassadra had entered the tunnel. It sloped down until the muddy walls returned to the familiar moss covered stone. The passage ended in a dead end. Mahvir moved up to the wall without hesitation and started to run his fingers down the stone.

"So, what do you plan to find here?" Nimwen asked Mahvir.

"At this stone, the entrance, inside, hopefully whatever Fen'Harel wants before he gets to it." His fingers stopped moving. "That should do it." He stepped back.

Where he had traced his fingers lit in a soft blue-green light. It was written elvish. The words flashed so fast, Nimwen wasn't able to read them. Then a grinding sound rumbled and the stone slid aside.

Mahvir slipped in before the entrance had finished opening.

Nimwen followed behind, the sound of sloshing water accompanying her steps as they entered the waterfilled room. "Just as I remembered it," Nimwen said. Though it was dark and a gloom hung in the air, there was still a beauty to the temple that Nimwen couldn't deny.

"Hopefully we will have no more undead to face," Cassandra said, hand on her sword hilt as she glanced around the chamber.

Mahvir gestured for them to come closer. He returned his attention to peering around the wall into the hall which led out of the room they'd come to and into the central part of the temple.

"It doesn't appear any of Fen'Harel's people are left in the quarters," he whispered when they were close enough. "They might have found the entrance into the main temple."

"Stay alert," Nimwen whispered to the others, gripping Shockmaw in her hand.

Before they could move out, a soft fluttering of wings sounded. Deceit appeared and landed on Mahvir's staff.

"They're swarming like little insects over the central chamber," she told Mahvir. "And the passage to the main temple was opened. The waters completely gone from their and stairs found. I managed to to get a quick look before coming here, but it seems they're taking it slow on proceeding or waiting for something."

"That will be the best chance we got at getting in before them, then," Fear shifted on Mahvir's shoulder. "Too bad you don't have more secret passages. It'll be harder to get- wait, wasn't there that one on the far side of the temple."

"It's guarded by the stone though," Deceit pointed out. "And we still have to get through the central chamber."

"Scout," Mahvir ordered Deceit.

"Slave driver." Deceit launched herself into the air again.

"She's looking ahead for us," Mahvir informed the others.

"Alright, we wait for her to return," Nimwen said. She sensed eyes on her. She turned and saw Cassandra staring at her. "What?"

"Are you prepared?"

Nimwen raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I know you are capable, but this won't be practice with Mahvir or myself. I want to know that you're certain you can handle a fight."

Nimwen sighed. "You and Mahvir have helped me greatly, and I've relearned much. I won't know until I find out, though, but I think I can do this. I wouldn't have come otherwise."

The Seeker surprised Nimwen by chuckling. "Knowing you, you would have come even if you had no limbs and a fever. You're stubborn, for good or for ill. If it's any consolation, I think you're ready, but should you falter, I will be there."

A small smile reached Nimwen's face. "Thank you, Cassandra."

"You're welcome. Now," the Seeker sighed. "We must wait on that bird."

"Does anyone else find it weird we're waiting on a raven?" asked the Dalish hunter. "I mean, it's a ravan. The only ravens I'd trust are Fear and Deceit if they came at Dirthamen's bidding."

Fear snapped his beak. "Who does she think she's talking about?"

Mahvir looked at Nimwen just long enough she could see his amused smile before he looked back at the hall. "I assure you, she is trained quite well," he stated in even tones.

Nimwen snorted. _'Trained,'_ she thought sarcastically to herself.

A shadow dropped through the gloom. Deceit returned to Mahvir's staff. She had made no sound upon return. "I flew around the back routes to that same passage. It's clear enough, unless you count ruble." She fluffed herself. "I got wet. That had better have been worth it."

Mahvir bowed his head. His hand resting on his chin for a moment. "This way." he moved out of the room and into the hall. He made a sharp right into the next larger chamber, Nimwen remembered the chamber had only that one entrance to it despite its massive size.

"Where should we start?" Nimwen asked Mahvir.

He had paused just in the chamber and was looking around. "This way, if I recall there is another hidden passage leading into the lower levels." He moved off through the water towards where part of the ceiling had caved to block part of the path. Mahvir clambered over it and stopped to wait on the other side.

"You spent how long here to learn of these passages?" Hawen asked when he joined Mahvir.

"A few years," Mahvir stated but his attention wasn't on the keeper.

"What is it?" asked Nimwen.

"Just give me a moment." He smiled at her, his breathing a little uneven. After a moment he moved over to the far end and knelt down. His long fingers moved over the uneven stone. "Here." He pressed a stone. It shifted into the wall. Then he moved another stone. The pattern was complex and hard to track.

When Mahvir stood, the stones were shifting as gears clicked and ground behind the wall. The passage was pitch black and a strong scent of mold and damp air rushed out to great. Mahvir moved his staff tip so it lit part of the passage beyond.

"I doubt that went unnoticed. We must be quick." Mahvir led the way into the passage. He didn't go far in, stopping with just enough room for the others to file passed. Then, with the end of his staff he tapped one stone and the gears started grinding and clicking again. Darkness fell over the group. The only light was the eerie blue glow from Mahvir's staff. A light which was even less because of the raven seated with her claws over where it come from.

Nimwen gazed into the darkness, tightening her grip on Shockmaw. She looked to Cassandra. "Just like old times, huh?"

The Seeker gave her a supportive smile, sword and shield in hand. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

*~ X ~*

Solas stood in the sanctuary within the very heart of the ancient temple, his hands behind his back. Water dripped and rushed down the sides of the stairs his agents had just uncovered. The moment they had found the stairs, they'd sent a message to Solas. He stood atop the original staircase which lead into the very heart of the sanctuary. He couldn't help but remember the last time he had been here with his dearest heart and the battle they had faced against the dead high priest.

Solas kept the pain of those memories from his face as he turned his gaze from the dais back to the stairs which had appeared to the side of the room. As instructed, the people were moving slowly as they clearedthe landing at the bottom of the stairs. He had warned them there was no telling the dangers which awaited them after twenty centuries of neglect. This was the reason they were moving slowly.

The elves chattered among themselves as they worked, each excited at uncovering the next part of the temple. The Dalish in the group were even more so than those city elves who'd joined them.

His heart tightened as he watched them. His heart had been just as excited if not more so upon learning of this temple. He wondered what her thoughts would have been upon learning the ritual had been one of three steps to unlock the real entrance into the very heart of the temple.

Dirthamen had always loved puzzles. When Dirthamen had been younger, Solas had watched as the boy Dirth had delighted in finding anything new. How he loved to learn and how he had taken great delight in the little puzzles Solas had made for him. Like with all the others, time and greed had corrupted the sweet, gentle twins Solas had once loved. This didn't mean Dirthamen had lost his love for puzzles. The temple was littered with them. From getting the first step of getting to the lower chamber, to the second, and third. Then there were bound to be more the deeper they progressed.

His mind wandered back to his heart. She had loved learning more about the past and he wondered if she still held that same joy now she knew the truth about the _evanuris_. A familiar pang of sorrow twisted his heart and tightened his throat as he thought of her. Of his beloved and the last moment he had seen her. Of the last time they had been here.

A soft sound came to Solas, jarring him from his thoughts. He stiffened and listened. At first he thought the others had triggered a trap, but the sound was too distant to be coming from where the others worked. He turned, listening hard. The sound almost pulsed through the ancient stone. A passage, somewhere in the temple had been opened.

The sound died away for a few heartbeats before it returned.

"Where is that coming from?" one of the elves asked.

"Go, see if you can find out," Solas instructed him. "Take another with you."

"Yes, ser!" The elf raced off with another, running passed Solas and heading deeper into the temple.

Was it possible there was another here who knew this temple better than Solas did? Perhaps the sentinels weren't all dead after all. No, all signs pointed to the fact they had died when the temple flooded. There was no possible way someone who served Dirthamen and still remembered this temple was here alive.


	7. Chapter 7

**SHOUT OUT GO OUT TO: PoisonedChuugoku, Cowgirl1011,** **CAS1952,** **Errevi** **, and all**

 **you other awesome readers we have. Much love!**

Chapter 7:

The damp air pulled at Mahvir, tightening his lungs. He had been using time magic to slow the effects since leaving Skyhold. It would only get harder to breath the further into the flooded temple they travelled. Damp air, humid air, cold air, all of it aggravated his lungs and restricted his ability to fake being healthy. Nimwen knew he wasn't, but Cassandra, Hawen, and the hunter with them had no idea. He would rather keep it that way.

"This place is amazing," the hunter had moved the furthest into the passage.

"Be careful, _da'len_ ," Hawen warned. The keeper had pulled out his staff to help light the passage.

"Everybody keep your guard up," Nimwen added. She glanced at Mahvir, her eyes showing hints of concern.

"Well, there's only one way to go," Mahvir stated and started off.

Water ran along the smooth, stone walls. Despite being a side passage there was more wealth here than had been seen in the chambers above, more because those had been slave chambers. Mahvir had to stop a shudder. He still hated the fact he had allowed slavery within these temples. Not that there had been much of away he could speak out against it near the end. Still, _slavery,_ of all things to allow, the enslavement of another within the People? He knew all too well the feeling of a lash across his back.

The passage sloped downward, turning to a near square set of spiral stairs. Mahvir found himself following behind the others. At some point Nimwen had naturally taken the lead, Cassandra close to her side with the Keeper and hunter only a few paces behind. Mahvir's footsteps were quiet and he drew no attention to himself or the fact he was falling further behind the others.

"We should be reaching the main chamber soon," Nimwen said. The faint blue light from the top of her staff helped illuminate their path.

"I am still uncertain what it is you think is here," Cassandra said to Mahvir. "What sort of artifact does Solas seek?"

Mahvir didn't try to reply. One, it was taking most of his concentration to move down the steps with his bad leg as well as hold his breathing at a regulated pace through his nose. Two, he was at the top of each flight when they were at the bottom now and he would have to shout to be heard.

"We could ask them to move slower," Fear stated. "Though, this is more amusing to watch."

"No, amusing would be reading that dwarf's lovely writing," Deceit interjected. "You had better let me finish that book, Dirthy. Oh, then we're going to meet him!"

Mahvir ignored her.

"Mahvir?" Nimwen turned around to look at him. " _Ma isala halani_?" she asked.

" _Banal_ ," Mahvir managed a quick reply. He continued down the stairs, using both the wall and his staff for support.

Nimwen raised a brow, seemingly unconvinced. Still, she turned back and continued walking, glancing back at him every now and then.

The hunter frowned. "You know our language?" she asked Mahvir.

Mahvir suppressed the urge to reply and instead continued focusing on where he was putting his feet.

"Na, he just speaks it natively," Fear retorted and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "If only they could hear me talk. We wouldn't have any more of this dancing around, playing dumb. They _know_ this is your temple. And they would be begging to help you."

"Quiet," Mahvir hissed at the bird so only Fear could hear him. He didn't need help and wasn't a god. He didn't need Fear announcing to everyone he had once been Dirthamen. Dirthamen was someone else entirely to the Dalish. He wasn't the God they were looking for.

The others had stopped at the bottom of the last flight when Mahvir joined them. He had slipped himself a herb to help ease his breathing when Nimwen hadn't been looking.

In the distance they could hear the shifting of stone. "I believe the main passage caved," he stated behind the others who had yet to notice he had caught up.

"You think he sent people to clear away the rubble?" Nimwen asked.

"Sound alone should answer that question." Mahvir touched a stone with the end of his staff. The space before them shifted and ground as a statue was moved aside. "Either way we'll have only the undead for company for awhile."

"How grim of you," Nimwen teased.

"More truthful than grim." Mahvir bowed his head. His voice even, almost dull instead of holding the normal playfulness he would have placed into the words. He didn't want to waste energy on teasing and jokes. They were going to encounter more than undead ahead and he needed to be able to fight not only dead sentinels but the stone guardians which would have woken when the main passage was disturbed.

Nimwen furrowed her brow, as if she wanted to say something, but if she did she remained silent.

"Be ready," Cassandra warned them, adjusting her sword in her hand.

The statue finished shifting aside. Water had trickled into the room at their feet. The light glistened off the water and into the main section of the temple. Mahvir moved out in the lead this time. He remembered the space they exited into when it had first been built. The dark stone, towering statues and sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he had seen it all.

Now, the gold had mold growing over it, the statues broken from many centuries. All but those which had spells woven over them.

The moment Mahvir had stepped out, a shadow moved. From the darkness an undead sentinel charged him, daggers drawn.

Mahvir twisted his staff as Deceit took to the air with an angry shriek at the undead. His staff slammed into the undead sentinel. The next moment the sentinel was frozen over by Deceit's sharp gaze.

Nimwen followed, sending a shock that shattered the frozen sentinel into shards. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Not even scratched," he stated. Then lifted his staff. "More are coming." To Deceit through a mind link with her, he instructed, " _Stay close, use magic to freeze as many as you can_."

" _I thought it would be nice to let that mortal girl at them_ ," Deceit retorted. The soft sound of her wings told him she obeyed him. Three more were frozen right as they entered the light of Nimwen's and Mahvir's staves.

Hawen and the hunter joined them. Hawen had his staff raised and shattered one of the undead while the hunter loosed an arrow which struck a new one racing at them from the shadows.

Cassandra slammed her shield into an incoming sentinel. She pushed it away and, as it staggered, she slashed into its torso.

"Cass!"

Before it could hit her, Nimwen struck the corpse sneaking up on the Seeker with a Fade-conjured fist. As it lay on the ground, she froze it over.

Cassandra stabbed into the sentinel, killing it before it even had the chance to break free.

"How many do you think there are?" Nimwen asked.

"Roughly?" Mahvir asked. "About a hundred give or take."

He twisted. Lightning raced from the tip of his staff. The energy crashed into another sentinel. The sentinel staggered, but the magic was too weak to do more than daze it.

Mahvir scowled. He was useless without being able to use time magic. He glanced at Cassandra. "Get back!" he shouted.

Stone cracked. The next moment a massive blade swooshed through the air. Water exploded up over the warrior, the blade missing her by a hair's breath.

"What was that?" Nimwen called out.

"A guardian," Mahvir replied.

Mahvir moved forward. Pain lanced through his legs as he forced himself into a limping, slow run.

Water rushed up over Mahvir's waist as the massive guardian moved. One foot crushed several of the undead sentinels. The guardian turned its glowing eyes towards them. It raised the broken blade. The air seemed to thicken as the blade rushed through air.

Mahvir leapt. Time sped up around him as he used his power to dodge the blow. He returned to normal time as water crashed down around him. The water caught him. Pain lanced through his back as he was slammed back into a wall. Water flooded his mouth as he gasped. Blood trickled from his mouth.

" _Fenedhis_ ," he muttered. His vision buckled. Stupid. He had seen it coming and rushed headlong into it.

Mahvir struggled to feet. His chest tight. Each breath pulled at his lungs. He could feel warm blood trickle down his face from where he'd hit his head. He shook his head. Lights popped before his eyes.

" _Fenedhis_ ," he spat blood.

The guardian turned its glowing eyes on him.

Mahvir grinned. "That's right, focus on me." He lifted his staff and pressed one foot up by the wall to remain standing.

The guardian lifted its massive sword.

"Go!" he shouted at Nimwen. "I can distract it for a time and rejoin you."

"No, I'm not leaving you!" Nimwen yelled back.

Time slowed. Mahvir limped to one side. _Crash_ \- the enter room shook as the blade crushed the ground. Rock flew into the air, More water flew over Mahvir, drenching him through to the bone. The blade blocked his sight of the others.

"Mahvir!" he heard Nimwen scream. There came a low _thum_ , and the chamber was washed in glowing green light.

Well, that just made everything worse. More sound of stone cracking filled the air. Other statues came to life as the light struck them. They raced through the water, most smaller than the large one they had been fighting, but just as powerful. She had to use that spell.

Mahvir sighed and lifted his hand. Time stopped around him. He felt a sharp pain in his mind as he focused on his magic. His eyes were giving off a soft light. He lifted his staff. Time returned in a crashing wave over him. One of the guardians crumbled to dust.

Each breath was pained. Damp air and combat weighed on his lungs. It felt as if they were held in a vice.

The main guardian had turned. It was heading towards Nimwen and the others now.

"We could get everyone out of this," Fear whispered in his ear. "And I hate suggesting it but I also don't want to die."

Time slowed again and Mahvir moved back to the others. He pushed Hawen and the hunter out of the way of the blade before returning to the normal time flow. The three of them crashed into the water.

"What the," the hunter spluttered.

"Mahvir!" Nimwen called out, relief in her voice. "Are you okay?"

Her being distracted wasn't a good thing. Cassandra was alone against the mobs of guardians.

Mahvir couldn't breath. He sat there unable to do anything now. More guardians were waking over the temple grounds. Undead were appearing again.

"Fear," his voice cracked, sounding weak and frail.

"About time." Fear's eyes started to glow.

Energy surged through Mahvir's body as he started to give off the same red light coming from Fear's eyes. For a heartbeat he was between himself and the power which would come. Time slowed. He was able to place himself between Cassandra and the oncoming attack before the fusion started to take affect. He lifted his hand. A barrier erupted over him and the Seeker. The blade slammed into it. The guardian fell back from the force of the impact.

Sheer, blinding agony raced through Mahvir. Fire erupted from his back moments before two massive black wings exploded out. The wounds sealed in the next moment, forming skin around the wings. Hair fell down his back, feathers wrapping around locks of the hair. Talons grew from his back and wrapped around his shoulders, chest and hips. His gloves ripped as his nails elongated.

Mahvir straightened. The fire pulsed through his ears as he flexed his wings.

" _My turn_ ," the words were in his native tongue. He charged forward. The largest guardian shattered when he struck it in the chest.

"Maker's breath!" Cassandra cried out.

The temperature dropped as a plume of frost formed over three of the remaining guardians. Nimwen strode towards them, lightning flying from her staff. An icy armor formed over her as she entered her blizzard, encasing her face and body.

Mahvir dove and landed in the center of the mass of guardians. " _Know fear_!" He shrieked. The sound carried over the stone until it crumbled. He launched into the air. Close to the ground, he wove between several move. The stone crumbled with ease.

Pain lanced through his wing. Water flew up over. A stone arrow had caught him. Mahvir rolled, gritting his teeth against the pain in his wings and ripping through his back. He could feel the burn scar tear as the left wing was wrenched. He came to rest close to the others.

" _We can't hold this form much longer_ ," Fear's voice echoed in Mahvir's mind.

" _I know_."

Mahvir panted as he stood. Blood dripped down his arm, one wing now hung limp, dragging in the blood stained water.

The guardian that shot him trudged forward, another arrow already notched. Just as it released, a glowing blue wall erected in front of Mahvir. A sound akin to shattering glass pierced the air as the head of the arrow broke through the wall of ice. More formed over it before it could go all the way through.

"Mahvir." Nimwen ran in front of him, sending ice and lightning bolts over her ice wall to keep back the guardians. "Are you alright?" She turned her head to look at him, and her eyes widened as if the sight of his new form finally dawned on her.

" _My thanks_ , Nimwen." Mahvir straightened and leaned against his staff. Her being here gave him time to do what was needed to end this battle. Fear was too injured to continue. " _Deceit, to me_!"

The bird dove at them. Moments later Fear fell from Mahvir. He shrieked in agony and rage as he flapped his injured wing. He spat insults at Mahvir.

Before the weakness could take effect from the first fusion, Deceit landed on his shoulder. The next moment, the area around them was lit in a blue light. He and Deceit became one. Her feathers grew out around his shoulders and waist falling down to form robe like clothing. The feathered cloth appeared over his mouth and nose. More feathers entwined into his long hair. Her talons grew into guards around his wrists and ankles, ripping through flesh to do so.

" _I can take it from here_ ," he told Nimwen, knowing she could understand their mother tongue. He placed his staff on his back. Ice moved whispered from one hand and grew into a long sharp blade. Lightning crackled in his other hand. The raw energy formed another blade.

He vanished from sight.

" _Move fast, Dirthy_ ," Deceit spoke in his mind. " _I can hold to you only for a short time. You've taken too much damage when you were with the oaf_."

" _I understand_ ," Mahvir thought back.

He raced through the water, moving faster than he had even with Fear. The ice blade slashed through three guardians before he appeared behind them to the others eyes. He turned. Ice raced out from the blade and encased more of the guardians. Lightning arched out. It slammed into the frozen enemies. They shattered, sending ice and stone flying through the room.

Then, Mahvir turned to the undead. He twisted the blades around him. He charged. Ichor flew into the air.

Pain lanced through his body.

" _We can't hold the form_!" Deceit shrieked in his mind.

Mahvir gasped. The energy fled him. Water flew up as he collapsed, fighting his own body instead of the few remaining enemies. It felt as if a pillow had formed over his mouth and nose. Agony surged through his twitching limbs as he fought to try and stand. To try and breath.

* ~ X ~ *

Just as her ice wall finally crumbled, Nimwen saw Mahvir fall. Her heart sped up, panic set in. She quickly looked over and saw Cassandra and the others finishing off the last of the stone monsters. _'Safe, they're safe,'_ she assured herself as she rushed to where Mahvir went in. Her eyes scanned the dark waters for a sign of him, and caught sight of a silhouette in the water. She waded towards him, her blood growing cold every second he remained under.

"Inquisitor!"

The sound of Cassandra's shout made Nimwen turn.

While the others were busy trying to subdue a greatsword wielding guardian, the other one was able to make its way towards her. She thrust her staff to make an ice wall, but the stone monster shattered it before it could totally form. She felt trapped. She had to get Mahvir, but she needed her staff to keep the guardian at bay. It was then she remembered the new weight on her left arm. She continued to fire lightning and frost at the guardian, slowing it but not halting its path, as she knelt down and shoved her prosthetic into the water. She blindly fished around, until she felt her false arm hit something. She managed to latch the hook into the tattered remains of Mahvir's robe, and with a grunt pulled him above water.

"Cassandra!" Nimwen shouted as she wrapped her arm around Mahvir. "I need help!"

The guardian, now covered in singes and frost, let out a roar. It turned just as Cassandra pulled her blade from its back. The guardian swung its sword, but only sliced air as the Seeker ducked. Water churned as Cassandra charged forward and slammed her shield into the guardian's stone knee.

The sound of metal against rock made Nimwen's ears hurt, but it was worth it to see the guardian fall to its knees. She heard Cassandra deal the killing blow as Nimwen looked down at the elf in her arm.

"Mahvir, can you hear me?" her worried voice asked.

Mahvir's breathing was low, pained. It sounded as a rasp of breath. His eyes were half closed. A soft, familiar light edged them. It was like when Solas had used his magic after their last kiss.

Nimwen wracked her brain for something to do. She had an idea, but whether it would work or not she was unsure. _'There's no time for speculation,'_ she thought. Ignoring her already exhausted mana levels, Nimwen focused all her energy into the healing spell taught to her by Keeper Deshanna long ago. _'Please work,'_ she pleaded. She had done the spell hundreds of times, with ease. The members of her clan when they were sick, her own brother who kept his breathing problems secret, they were no different than Mahvir, right? But he was different.

She felt the sweat build on her brow but she pushed her magic, the green glow of her hand growing as she pressed it to his chest. "Come on, Mahvir," she yelled. She feared her spell might not be enough.

' _Of course it won't be enough, how could mere Dalish magic help him?'_

Nimwen winced. He was from another time, from when her people walked as gods and lived forever. But they were still elvhen, right? Mahvir had said so, and so had Solas-

Nimwen swallowed. "Please, be enough," she whispered. _'Please, let me be enough.'_

A gasp sounded from Mahvir. He twitched in her hold; then, the glow of his eyes died away. He blinked. "Nimwen?" The question rasped, but his breathing had eased.

Nimwen let out a sob of relief. "You're okay," she croaked. She was in disbelief, even with herself. The feeling quickly faded and she started looking him over, talking a mile a minute. "Are you in pain? Do you need more magic? Can you speak? Nod if you can speak. Where were you shot I need to fix it…"

"Nod if I can speak? Shouldn't I just speak?" The questions were weak, but there. He managed to stand and leaned against his staff. "I am fine, Lady Nimwen, thanks to you. The arrow hit my wing. Which I don't have now." He gave her a weak, tired smile.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Nimwen smiled back, too relieved to bother returning his jest. She stood, her eyes still scanning him for any injury that needed healing. Not that she could have. The room spun slightly as she clung to Shockmaw for support. Her legs felt like jelly, and she knew she had overdone it with her magic.

"Nimwen."

She heard splashing water and saw Cassandra and the others jog towards them.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Nimwen panted.

Sword and shield still in hand, Cassandra strode to Nimwen and put herself between the mage and Mahvir. "What are you?" she asked Mahvir, voice low and dangerous.

"Cassandra, what are you doing?" Nimwen demanded.

"You saw what he turned into," Cassandra snapped. She stood protectively in front of Nimwen, as if she feared Mahvir would attack.

"Cassandra, stop it," Nimwen ordered, though her wavering voice lacked any conviction.

"I'm an elf, Seeker. Do you not see my pointed ears?" He pointed to one of his ears.

"That's not what she was talking about, idiot!" Fear landed on Mahvir's shoulder. "And my wing still hurts. I still feel my lungs screaming too."

"You're the one who suggested the fusion, oaf." Deceit landed on Mahvir's staff. "It's your fault both of us were forced into it."

"Ah, you love fusing with master," Fear snapped his beak. "You just never admit."

"I do not!" Deceit moved her head so her beak was pointed into the air. "I hate the terrible weakness afterwards and how we are denied control."

Fear fluffed his feathers. "If I wasn't so weak you would be in the water!"

"What is this?" Cassandra gasped. She moved Nimwen back and raised her sword.

"I said enough!" Nimwen found the strength to grab Cassandra's arm with her hook and forced her sword away from Mahvir and the ravens.

"What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing?" Nimwen snapped at the Seeker. "Mahvir is one of us, and you do not point your sword at a comrade."

"You saw what he turned into. No mere elf becomes such a thing. He must be an abomination, and those _things_ demons."

"He is not an abomination," Nimwen growled.

"I have followed you for years, Nimwen. I followed you here because I believe you can handle yourself, but do not think that means I'm still not ready to protect you, from anything or anyone. If he is not an abomination, then what is he, and how do you know he can be trusted?"

"He's not an abomination and I trust him wholly!"

"But why?! What is he to you?"

"He's Solas's son!" Nimwen screamed. Her eyes widened. She slammed a hand over her mouth but it was too late. The words were out. With blood iced with dread, she dared a glance at Mahvir.

Fear snapped his beak. "Brilliant!"

"That's one way to keep a secret," Deceit's voice was dull as her sharp eyes looked down at Nimwen.

There was no shock, no hurt, no emotion on Mahvir's face. "I am his son, though he doesn't know of my existence."

"What? Y-you're…?" A million emotions flashed across Cassandra's face, visually representing her no doubt conflicted thoughts. "How, how did this happen?" She turned to Nimwen. "Where did you find him?"

"He found me," Nimwen clarified.

"If you are Solas's son," the Seeker's disbelief at the statement was evident in her voice. "Then, are you one of them? One of the ancient elves?"

"No, I was born three years ago and somehow look to be in my twenties," he joked.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "Do not jest with me. If anything, this only proves you cannot be trusted. Inquisitor, I know you still care for him, but do you realize the danger of having the Dread Wolf's son at our sides?"

"You don't understand, Mahvir isn't working with Solas," Nimwen insisted. "He came to us because he doesn't want Solas's plan to succeed. If he was a spy, why reveal himself?"

"To prey on your compassion."

"Stop." Nimwen glared at Cassandra. "Don't you dare, Cassandra. I am not a child nor am I that naive Dalish girl you found amid ruins. I know when I can and cannot trust somebody. I let him near my _daughter_ for fuck's sake. Do you think I am stupid enough to let just anybody near Lori, Cassandra?"

The warrior opened her mouth to speak, but Nimwen cut her off. "You will never raise your sword to him again, and you will treat him with the respect he deserves as an ally of the Inquisition as well as a member of my family. Do you understand me?"

Cassandra's mouth hung open in shock.

Nimwen maintained her stony stare, but behind the mask, she worried. If Cassandra ignored her and went for Mahvir, Nimwen had no magic to fight her. She begged whatever powers controlled the world Cassandra would see reason, and Nimwen would not have to fight her friend.

After what felt like an eternity to the elf, she watched Cassandra's stance relax.

"You truly believe he is here to help?"

"With all my heart."

Cassandra let out a sigh, and Nimwen could see the strain of the years on her face. "Very well. I still do not trust him, but for you I shall give him a chance."

"Thank you," Nimwen replied, relief filling her.

Mahvir had been standing there watching them. His dark eyes and face giving nothing away. "If it's been decided I am not to be killed this day, perhaps we should find a place to rest and never again mention I am related to Fen'Harel?" His voice was even. There was no sign he even cared Cassandra didn't like or trust him.

It was then Nimwen finally remembered they were not alone. "Keeper Hawen." Nimwen turned to the Keeper and his hunter. They would have heard everything. Hawen was a reasonable man, but Nimwen would not be surprised if he decided to attack the son of the Dread Wolf. "Keeper, before you do anything please just be calm and-" Nimwen paused, brow furrowed in confusion. Keeper Hawen and the hunter stood, faces stoic and calm, the complete opposite of what Nimwen expected. "Keeper?"

"They can't hear you right now, Lady Nimwen. When our dear Seeker here first blocked you and I, I took those two out of the normal time flow. I believe it is best they didn't hear I was the child of Solas let alone that I am an ancient elf." Mahvir looked at Nimwen and Cassandra. "If we are not going to mention it again, I will return them to normal time flow."

"You can control time? How?" Cassandra asked.

"I am not a normal mage, Seeker," Mahvir explained. "It is one of the reasons why when Fear or Deceit fuse with me I do not fall under their control. Yes, I control time, but that is _all_ the magic I can do. I will never create barriers or fields of ice or fire. The only time I can is with one of them." He gestured at the ravens. "And I lose the ability to manipulate time then. Also, I have little connection to the Fade as a result of my," he hesitated, " _gifts_. Does that answer your question, Seeker?"

"That is…" Cassandra struggled to find the word.

"Unbelievable?" Nimwen suggested.

"Yes. As seems to always be the case with you, Inquisitor."

"You know you can leave, right?" Nimwen teased.

"I am not so easily dismissed." The Seeker turned to Mahvir. "Release them, and swear that you will never use these powers to harm the Inquisitor, or the Inquisition. Are we clear?"

"If I wished the Inquisition or Lady Nimwen harm, I wouldn't be aiding you now. But I swear I will never harm her or your group." A soft glow came from his eyes.

The next moment Hawen and the hunter were moving towards them.

"What were those things?" The hunter asked as she eyed the remains of the stone guardians.

"Guardians meant to protect the temple," Nimwen said, as if the confrontation never happened. "There may be more or other traps deeper inside. _Hahren_ , this may be too dangerous for you two."

"I knew the risks coming in, _da'len_ ," Hawen stated. "Much of my clan left when we learned of the Dread Wolf's plan to restore Elvhenan. If this is the only way to get them to see reason, I will go through any danger to protect my clan."

"And we are getting to see Dirthamen's temple. Dirthamen!" The hunter's eyes were wide. On her face was the _vallaslin_ of a follower of Dirthamen. "I mean we know so little about him and Falon'Din. We've lost so much knowledge of those two creators. I wouldn't pass up a chance to be down here for the world!"

Mahvir tilted his head to one side.

Nimwen smiled. The hunter reminded her of when she was first in this temple, when she first joined the Inquisition. The excited look in her eyes at the prospect of knowledge brought Nimwen comfort, that she was not the only one who delighted in learning. It also conjured sadness, knowing she could no longer take joy in learning the lore of her people, when so much of it was just perverted and romanticized versions of the truth. She sometimes wished she could go back, back when the Creators were real and her clan's stories were more valuable than gold. But she couldn't. So instead, she wished the hunter would remain oblivious to the reality of the world for just a bit longer.

"Let's go," she said quietly.

Mahvir bowed his head, long hair falling around his face as a curtain. He then straightened. Without a word he turned and limped out of the water onto higher ground. The two ravens were, for once, silent. In fact, Fear had settled on Mahvir's shoulder, beak tucked under his wing and eyes closed. Deceit remained awake, her icy eyes alert and head held high.

 _Ma isala halani?_ \- You in need of help?

 _Banal_ \- no


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

A distant rumble moved through the ancient temple. Solas opened his eyes a slit. After his agents had reported finding nothing, he had returned to watching the people work to clear the blockage at the bottom of the stairs. Now, he could almost feel the magic which had been called. The Fade leaked into the world for a few heartbeats then vanished.

Solas kept his features straight. There was something familiar about the magic echoing through the stone to him. It wasn't so faint he could count it as being old remnants of magic. Instead, it was as if the person was standing within these very walls. Solas closed his eyes. Who was it? The magic was like Mythal's to him, so familiar it was as if it came from his own body. As if it were a breath he had taken.

The last time Solas had felt this magic was - was the last time all nine of them had stood as one. When they had been rulers not "gods." The name fell into place: Dirthamen. It was impossible. Both of his nephews had been sealed with the other _evanuris_. He remembered doing so. Yet, none but Dirthamen could twist such magic. Or, perhaps it was possible for another to have learned his secrets. This had to be it. Dirthamen was sealed away.

"My lord." Melda came to him. "You heard the rumbling?"

"It came from below. Someone else is here." Solas opened his eyes. "How long until the rest is cleared?" He looked at the girl before him.

"We're working as fast as we can," Melda replied. She shifted in her armor, still new for the girl who not too long ago was still acting as a seamstress. "If we continue at this pace, it shall take an hour," she said.

"Very well." Solas turned his gaze back on the scene before him. Perhaps it was just his imagination that made him feel Dirthamen's magic. Or something here which reminded him of his once gentle and kind nephew. A nephew who had grown just as corrupt and power hungry as the other _evanuris_. He remembered seeing Dirthamen there over Mythal's body with the others. He had stood beside them and killed his own mother.

The boy Solas had known and loved had vanished in that moment. Dirthamen wasn't sweet, he wasn't kind, or gentle. He had become a brutal, power hungry, cruel man just like his father.

"Lord Fen'Harel." Melda's Orleasian accented voice was tinged with worry. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"When the rubble is cleared take an advanced group through, only those trained in combat," he instructed. "There's no telling what defenses remain active after all these centuries."

Melda nodded. "Very well." She turned to walk away, but after taking a step she turned around. "My Lord, I just wanted to say...thank you for giving me this chance. I know I was raised among the _shems_ , but I am ready to prove myself to the People."

Solas bowed his head to her. "You've done well, _da'len_ ," he praised.

"Th-thank you, I-I mean _ma serannas_ ," she stammered. Her accent made her elvish clumsy and forced, but still she said it with pride. "I shall not fail you." With that, she returned to her work, making sure the excavation went smoothly.

Solas watched her go. What he was looking for had to be here. One of the Foci. Not just any either, he meant Dirthamen's main one. His nephew hadn't used it during the war once and he couldn't imagine Dirthamen leaving it at the main temple. Out of all of Dirthamen's temples this one had been the most hidden. Even if he was going off an old memory of Dirthamen's personality, it made sense for him to hide his Foci here. A place which had been solely Dirthamen's. Falon'Din had never set foot in this place. No worshipers of his had come here. It was one of the _only_ temples dedicated just to Dirthamen.

Out of all the others, Dirthamen had the most magical knowledge. It had been Dirthamen who had come up with the theory of the eluvians. Then with Solas's aid had refined them and finally taken the idea to June who had set to work, again with Solas, to create the pathways. The fact remained without Dirthamen, much of how Elvhenan had worked would never had happened.

Even if Dirthamen's Foci wasn't here then there would be something left of his nephew's vast magical knowledge. A hint to put Solas on the right path or even another artifact which would aid him. If not, then perhaps his nephew had more foresight than he believed.

* ~ X ~ *

Each step sent pain lancing up through Mahvir's left leg. He kept his pace even as he led the way further into the temple. They had left the waterlogged passages a little ago and now moved through a part of the temple which had never seen the flood.

He knew with each step the sentinels had survived. He could feel eyes on them, hidden within the shadows. Yet, none appeared. Perhaps they were curious as to what this group was doing and wished to gather more information before attacking. They didn't recognize Mahvir as Dirthamen for which he was grateful beyond belief. Yet, he also knew they would do everything in their power to stop this group from claiming the artifact which lay here.

"Mahvir." A gentle hand touched his shoulder. "Your leg is hurting, isn't it? Maybe I could help. I've recovered enough that maybe I could use some healing magic."

Mahvir slowed a little. "I'm fine, Lady Nimwen, conserve your magic." He gave her a soft smile.

"Please, just call me Nimwen. I'm no lady. Technically I'm not even an Inquisitor anymore, since the Inquisition serves Leliana," Nimwen chuckled.

"It is out of respect I call you 'lady.' If you find the title offensive, I will stop." Mahvir bowed his head, long strands of hair falling around him. He would have to use a knife to cut his hair back to shoulder length. Whenever he used Fear or Deceit in that manner his hair returned to being waist length. A length he had worn his hair at for many, _many_ centuries. It was harder to manage long hair while traveling.

"It's not that I find it offensive, I just don't see myself as anyone's Lady, least of all yours. Though I do suppose I'm technically a Comtesse," Nimwen noted. "Now that, I _really_ can't believe."

Mahvir chuckled. "And thus you are Lady Nimwen." He gave a slight bow of his head. It wasn't a deeper bow because Fear was still asleep on his shoulder. The last thing any of them needed was the raven waking when he hit the ground. "And besides, Solas was once a king," he whispered to Nimwen. He was careful to keep it so that only she and perhaps Cassandra could hear him.

"King Solas," Nimwen mused. "I still can't wrap my head around it. He was an elven king, and just two years ago he slept on a couch and spent his time painting the walls." She bowed her head. "I loved watching him paint," she said quietly. "I'm a horrible artist, but he let me help him mix the paints and I'd hand him his brushes or tell him whether the lines were straight." She sighed. "I miss seeing his murals. There are thousands of paintings in Val Royeaux but none of them can compare."

"You will be able to see that one day," Mahvir assured her. "No matter what I will aid you so Lorien can know her father. The real him and not the man who is devoured by his own guilt." He chuckled and shook his head. " _Ir abelas_ , Lady Nimwen. I just thought on what you said about the couches. I was a king and I sleep on the ground now and spend time carving toys for elvhen children. Who one was in the past, defines them in certain ways and doesn't matter in others. In many ways, he is still the man I knew growing up and, in other ways, he isn't."

"I suppose so," Nimwen said. She blinked. "Wait, you carve?"

"Where did you think the raven I gave Lorien came from? I told you I have no money." Mahvir laughed. "Yes, I carve. The raven was a quick toy. I am working on another for Lorien that will much better."

"You are too kind," Nimwen smiled. "Lori is lucky to have you for a brother."

"My thanks." Mahvir bowed his head to her. He held up a hand as he stopped walking. Before them were two massive stone doors. "These doors should take us into the chambers where the People paid their respects to Dirthamen," he stated.

The doors were sealed with magic however and he frowned. The last time he had been here no such wards had been in place.

Mahvir limped forward. He stopped and ran his staff along the edge of the wall. There was a switch would open the doors, but it was hidden and only he and the sentinels here knew where it was.

"I wonder if there will be tests, like the ones in the Temple of Mythal," Cassandra pondered.

"Are there?" Nimwen asked Mahvir.

"The doors are sealed," Hawen spoke instead of Mahvir. "I can feel the magic coming from them. Is there another way around?"

Mahvir found the location of the switch and started to dig away the layers of grime covering it. His staff sank into the stone and the doors creaked open.

"How did you know where to find that?" Cassandra asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

"I know everything." Mahvir was managed a small smile as he looked at the Seeker. "I thought I established that before we entered the temple?"

Cassandra made a noise of disgust. "Ugh, you remind of Varric."

"You say it as if that were a bad thing," Nimwen teased.

"Don't you start as well."

Deceit launched herself from Mahvir's staff. "You _know_ Varric! The genius who wrote _This Shit is Weird_?" The raven landed on Cassandra's shoulder. "You have to introduce me!"

"Get back here!" Mahvir snapped at the demon. "She doesn't have to do anything of the sort and you are bugging her."

The raven grumbled. She flew back over to Mahvir's staff. "Fine, but you're going to get me a meeting with him even if it kills you."

"Hold on, you read Varric's books?" Cassandra asked. "Have you read _Hard in Hightown_?"

"He has more!" At once Deceit was looking at Mahvir. "Mahvy, Mahvy, Mahvy! You _have_ to get them! I want to read!"

"You're going to make me read all of them just so you can sit on my head and read them as well, aren't you?" Mahvir sighed. He didn't much want to read _every_ book written by the dwarf.

"No," Deceit lied. She blinked at him.

Mahvir snorted. "Right?"

"In that case, I would recommend _Hard in Hightown_ as well as _Tale of the Champion_ , they are his best," Cassandra said.

"But what about his _best_ best?" Nimwen asked, a cat-like grin on her face.

A tinge of red came to the Seeker's cheeks. "No."

"You would have the gall to deny poor Deceit the pinnacle of Varric's works?" Nimwen fake-gasped. "I thought better of you Cassandra."

"You are cruel, Inquisitor."

"I'll have the gall to deny her," Mahvir stated. He shuddered. "I don't read romances." He limped towards the doors. "Shall we continue?"

"Is that bird talking?" the hunter asked.

"Romance!" Deceit hopped onto Mahvir's head and pecked him. "You have a nerve, Mahvy! I want the romance."

"Ouch!" Mahvir swipt at Deceit. "Get off my head."

Deceit leapt over his arm and pecked him again. "Romance!" Peck. "Romance!" Peck.

"Fine, stop pecking me!"

Nimwen burst into laughter. "Oh, Mahvir, I'm so sorry. You have my sympathy."

"You shouldn't talk, _you_ like _Swords and Shields_ as well," Cassandra pointed out.

Nimwen sputtered. "I-that's not...how did you know?"

"I am no fool, Nimwen, did you think I wouldn't notice them disappearing from and reappearing at random?"

Nimwen looked away, her pale cheeks pink.

"Perhaps this is a topic for a later date?" Mahvir stated. Romances. He shuddered again.

"Agreed," Keeper Hawen said with a shake of his head. He rubbed his eyes.

"Right, right," Cassandra added, returning to her serious self once more. "So, as I asked earlier, Mahvir, will there be any sort of Trials once we get inside?"

"The trials are how the ancient elvhen paid respects to all eight of them," Mahvir told her. It was hard to avoid saying "creator" or "evanuris," but he knew he wasn't a god and thus wouldn't say "creator." He didn't want to offend the two Dalish and thus didn't say "leader." "So, most likely there are trials."

"Romance." Deceit had returned to Mahvir's staff, her eyes now dreamy. "I can't remember the last time I got to read one."

Mahvir made a face. Considering the only time that bird got to read anything was when he was, he knew it had been some centuries since she last got a romance.

"Mahvir, if you are uncomfortable with those sort of books, I could read them for Deceit," Nimwen offered.

"Mahvy is the only one I read from the head of!" Deceit snapped her beak and held her head high, her stance offended. "You, little mortal, aren't Mahvy."

"Be nice." Mahvir tapped his staff.

Deceit let out a caw of shock when she almost lost her grip.

Nimwen's eyes were wide. "I-I apologize," she said quietly. She regained her composure, but there was still a twinge of hurt lurking in her eyes. "Forget I asked," she mumbled.

"My apologies, Lady Nimwen. She meant nothing by it." Mahvir wanted to do more to help Nimwen, but this was far from the place.

He stopped at the entrance to the first trial. A short set of stairs was flanked by two golden ravens. There was a spirit, or more over, a shadow of a being now waiting for them there. To call it a spirit would be a lie. It had been crafted using magic for the sole purpose of asking the first questions in the trials.

Mahvir turned to the others. "I'll head up the stairs last." His leg pulsed with hot pain. A dull reminder he would be slow. It was only three steps, but still he would hold the others up.

Nimwen looked at him with silent concern.

"I'm fine, Lady Nimwen. I will just be slow." Mahvir turned back to the steps.

Hawen and the hunter had already moved up them. Both marveled at the sight of the trial. There was a wonder in them which made Mahvir's heart twinge with regret. In the same moment, he had made the choice to never tell the People the truth. They needed the idea of the creators. It was something which gave them hope and to tell them the truth would tear the People apart. He could regret the past all he wanted, but to take such a thing from them, even if the real people they worshiped were monsters, would do exactly what he had sworn to never do. It would harm the People he loved.

"What is that spirit doing?" Nimwen asked.

"It's not a spirit. Something close to it, but not one." Mahvir shifted a little so he was putting all of his weight on his right leg. "Right now it's waiting all of us to mount the steps."

"Then let's go," Nimwen said, following behind Cassandra.

Mahvir limped after them. He used his staff to pull himself up the steps.

Only when he had joined the others did the "spirit" speak. "Welcome," it spoke in common rather than elvish, "have you come to pay respects to Dirthamen?" It had a female voice as it looked at each of them.

"Yes," Nimwen said.

"Then a test of your knowledge is required to proceed. Answer three questions correctly and you may enter the next chamber. First question: before _aneth ara_ was a greeting, what was it used for?" it asked.

"Mahvir, do you have this?" Nimwen asked.

"I thought you would know, don't you still have the voices from the Well?" Cassandra asked.

"I do, but they don't know everything."

"I know the answer," Mahvir stated. This felt like cheating, but it would get them through the trials without angering anyone or insulting the Dalish. " _Aneth ara_ was used as a way for the People to know a place was safe from the eyes of Forgotten during the First War. If the phrase wasn't spoken, the People would know the place was under the control of the Forgotten. Later, after the defeat of the Forgotten Ones, it was translated into an informal greeting."

"Correct." It bowed its head to them. "Second question: which of the nine generals sealed the Forgotten and won the First War?"

"It was Solas," Nimwen replied.

"I thought Fen'Harel sealed the Forgotten Ones?" the hunter asked, looking confused.

"Correct. General Solas led a group into the Forgotten Ones' domain. Only he and two others made it out alive." It told them. "Third question: after the fall of the Forgotten which of the nine started the construction of Arlathan?"

"Was it June?" Nimwen whispered to Mahvir.

"Yes," he confirmed in a whisper.

"It was June," Nimwen said to it.

"June sought a place for the People to forget the war and thus created the designs for Arlathan." It bowed its head to them. "The way is clear."

The doors opened permitting the group to proceed into the next chamber.

"Who was Solas? I could have sworn the answer would have been Fen'Harel?" the hunter asked as they moved towards the door.

"Perhaps such things are best left as a mystery to time." Mahvir bowed his head to the hunter.

The next room wasn't too larger. It was only just big enough for the group to enter. On a platform before the door was a large star shaped item.

"Nobody touch it," Cassandra warned them. "I will not die by a cliche."

"What is it for?" Nimwen asked Mahvir.

Mahvir chuckled. "It's not harmful, Seeker." He limped up onto the platform and touched the star. At once it fell into hundreds of tiny pieces across the stone pedestal it had rested on. "It's a puzzle."

"We are to solve a puzzle?" Cassandra asked.

"I'll take this over fighting undead any day," Nimwen said. "It can't be too hard, right? The five of us are sure to get this done."

Mahvir wasn't certain if he should cheer at her enthusiasm or laugh at her saying the puzzle wasn't hard. The nine sided star this large had stopped many of the People from ever getting passed this point. Those who had spent days to weeks in this chamber figuring it out.

"If you wish, I can put it together," Mahvir said with a slight bow.

"Let me try it first," Nimwen insisted. "Dorian showed me puzzles and now I love them. If there is an elven puzzle you'll be sure I'm doing it."

Mahvir shrugged. There was space enough for two at the pedestal.

"I will aid you, Inquisitor." Hawen moved up as well.

"All right, we have the two." Mahvir limped over to the side of the room and settled himself on the floor. "You might want to sit, Hunter, Seeker. This will take awhile." He pulled out the body of the current carving he was working on and unwrapped it from the layers of cloth. The body was as long as his hand and almost as wide. He was working on hollowing it out. Thus he pulled out a long tool that ended in a looped piece of sharpened metal.

"Alright, how should we do this…" Nimwen mumbled to herself as she and the Keeper examined the star.

"How long will that take them?" Cassandra asked, taking her sword out to clean.

"It is said that it took many who came here weeks to solve," Mahvir replied. He blew on the wood to get the scarps out. "Others simply gave up and left." He frowned. "This might be why Dirthamen was called mysterious… I hadn't thought about it before now."

"I thought he's trials would have more to do with the secrets of the People," the hunter said from where she leaned against the wall. "That first one was triva and this is a puzzle. Why?"

"Knowledge is but another secret," Mahvir told the child.

"Knowledge that is kept secret only breeds corruption," Cassandra said. "Those who deceive only serve to bring more problems than the ones they intended to fix."

"True enough." Mahvir bowed his head. "To have knowledge and never share what you know is a way for problems to fester and grow. A simple piece can lead to a brother turning on a brother. Or even the downfall of an organization. Yet, to have knowledge and to truly understand what knowledge you hold are two entirely different matters. One might hold a piece of information, but without understanding, it is simply a piece of information with no way to act upon it. Thus deemed useless.

"When knowledge is held by the right person and used wisely, it is then something which can grow and make a group great." Mahvir moved his tool so as to start working on where the first leg would attach to the toy. He had hollowed out where the moveable head would go just enough so that he could reach that part from the first two legs.

"I agree," Cassandra said, a note of surprise in her voice. "I've learned what happens when the truth is kept only by the powerful, who use it to control those under them. I don't suppose you know about the Seekers of Truth?"

"They were once the original Inquisition some eight hundred years ago. In the twentieth year of the Divine Age the Chanty managed to convince the original Inquisition to join under its banner. Thus the group split into two orders: the Seekers of Truth and the Templars. The Seekers were the elite of the two groups, chosen to ferret out corruption within the Circles of Magi and Templar Order or even within the Chantry itself. Does that answer your question, Seeker?"

"You are well read." Cassandra sighed. "We truly were elite once. But then the one we trusted to lead us gave us up to slaughter. I have spent the past two years trying to contact the last Seekers who remain. The Seeker's Tome, the source of all our secrets and knowledge, had been kept only by the Lord Seeker. So many things were swept under the rug, important things we all should have known, kept away to keep us in line. As I rebuild the order, I've vowed that every Seeker must read from the book. There shall be no more secrets."

"It is sad to see those in power still abuse the role. Yet, knowledge has always been something which can easily corrupt the mind of the holder or making them hid the truth in shadow out of fear." Mahvir thought of how he had hidden the truth about having a different father from his brother. How he had feared his brother's rejection of him if such knowledge came to light. "I hope you seceded where others have failed, Seeker. The world could do with a true group of noble seekers."

"Thank you." Cassandra looked at Mahvir. "I have not treated you as well as I should. While my priority was keeping Nimwen safe, she was right. I apologize for raising my sword to you."

"I took no offense, Seeker. You're far from the first person to do so and you won't be the last." Mahvir smiled at her. "I am often judged by the blood I share with others. I've grown rather used to it."

"Family often makes it hard for your own name to stand out, though I feel you may have endured worse than I," Cassandra replied. "I've found the only solution is to let your actions speak loud enough to drown out blood or family crests. It does not always work, but it's the most effective approach I've found."

"I find not mentioning it and just being me works just fine as well." Mahvir worked the tool so it striped a long piece of wood in a semi-circle. "Though, it does help when your family doesn't have a family name tied to it." He looked towards the Keeper and Nimwen. "How goes the puzzle?"

"This is impossible!" Nimwen groaned. "What evil person designed this terrible thing?" She blinked, as if realizing what she said. "I mean, what genius designed this terrible thing?" She chuckled nervously.

Mahvir chuckled. "I am certain Dirthamen would take no offense, Lady Nimwen." Mahvir wrapped the carving back in its layers of cloth. He put it and the tool away before he struggled to his feet. "Would you like me to join you?" he asked.

"I've had enough of this puzzle. You're welcome to take my place." The Keeper moved away from the pedestal.

"My thanks, Keeper." Mahvir bowed his head. He limped over to join Nimwen. Not to his shock they hadn't gotten far.

"Save me from myself," Nimwen asked, stepping aside to let him near the star.

Mahvir frowned and leaned his staff to one side.

Deceit took off and moved so she was perched above them to watch. Fear still slept on Mahvir's shoulder, seeming unaware of everything happening around him.

The first thing Mahvir did was sort the pieces. Then, he was able to pull the pieces out and place them together. He hadn't found this puzzle hard in many centuries. Granted he was also the creator of this puzzle so he couldn't really talk.

It took him a little under an hour to finish the puzzle. The last piece clicked into place and he stepped back. "That should do it."

"You are amazing," Nimwen said. "How did you even do it? I had no idea what I was doing."

Mahvir rubbed the back of his head. "It's a matter of practice?" he gave a lame answer which was a half question. It felt weird to be praised over this. He had created the puzzle. The idea of it coming from when Solas had made small ones for him as a child. He had wanted harder and harder ones from Solas and eventually just ended up creating his own, but those had still seemed too easy. He couldn't remember ever finding puzzles hard. Enjoyable, perhaps a little of a challenge, but truly hard? Never, in memory.

"So, what now, is there a third room?" asked Nimwen.

"Let's see." Mahvir limped forward.

Deceit returned to his staff.

"Let's go," Cassandra said, sheathing her now clean sword as she stood.

Mahvir fell in behind Nimwen as she led them into the next room. The room mirrored that of the others after the trials. Stone guardians remained stone on either side of the door. Gold, though tarnished lined the walls along with the guardians. Since they had passed the trials and not broken down the doors, the stone remained unmoving. The hall was light by pillars with fire blazing at the tops. At the end of the hall was the place where the "god" of the temple, if here, would have greeted those loyal to him or where the current High Priest would have. Instead it was empty. Yet the feeling of eyes on them grew with each step they took into the room.

The doors closed behind them.

"Ready yourselves," Nimwen warned them in a whisper. She already had her hand on Shockmaw, ready to whip the staff from her back.

" _Venavis_!" a clear voice called from above.

Mahvir looked up to see a woman had strode to stand where the priest would have in the past. A long, tattered coat covered her purple tinged, ancient armor.

"You shouldn't be here." Her sharp, pale blue eyes flashed in the light of the fire. _Vallaslin_ which marked her as a sentinel of Dirthamen crinkled as she narrowed her eyes. "Who are you? How did you get passed the wards?"

"We completed the Trials," Nimwen explained. "We have shown respect for this temple. We have not come to harm neither it nor you."

Mahvir knew the woman. He glanced behind him to see a few others had appeared to block their way out. There were only three there and another four guarded the other two doors. Eight remained. Eight out of around one hundred sentinels. His heart twisted. They had stayed. Why had they stayed? Nothing but death remained here for them.

"Those aren't the wards I speak of, quick child." The woman folded her arms across her chest. "The main door was sealed so none could pass. How did you know how to get through them? None but the eight of us who remain know the secrets of this place."

Nimwen's eyes flickered to Mahvir. She looked at him, questioning.

It clicked. He remembered her name. "I opened the doors," he limped forward as he looked up at her. He knew the moment his eyes met hers she would recognize him.

The woman's eyes grew wide. "You're alive," the words were laced with shock.

"Are they ancient elves?" Mahvir heard the hunter whispered the question to Nimwen.

"They are sentinels. They guard the temples of whoever they serve."

The woman moved from where she had stood back into the room beyond. A few moments later she strode out of the doors to the left. She raced over to Mahvir and the next moment he was in a tight embrace. " _Hahren_ , you're alive," she whispered.

Fear shrieked at her. He wiggled out of the hold and landed on her arm. "Rude! Right when I was dreaming of scaring a child too."

"Poor oaf, never getting passed that point in his silly dreams." Deceit cawed in laughter.

"You know this woman?" Cassandra asked Mahvir.

"He knows all of us." The other sentinels had moved away from the doors. Their weapons were now sheathed. The one who had spoken was a man who had been but a boy when Dirthamen had fled Falon'Din's betrayal. " _Hahren_ , Falon'Din came and told us you were killed. What happened?"

Cassandra raised a brow. "Falon'Din? Inquisitior, is that not the name of the elven gods?"

"Yes," Nimwen responded, dread in her eyes.

"Falon'Din is the Guide for the Dead," Hawen explained. "It is said he and Dirthamen were twins."

"They were at that," the male sentinel confirmed Hawen's words.

"I'll explain everything later, Atisha," Mahvir told the girl who still hugged him. "For now we need the artifact left here."

She pulled back from him. Her blue eyes intent. "I understand." She bowed her head.

"So, those elvhen digging are here for _that_?" asked the man.

"If he says they are, then they are," Atisha told the other. She turned to Nimwen and the others. " _Ir abelas_ , I didn't recognize who it was you traveled with."

"It is fine," Nimwen replied.

"I still don't understand, how do they know Mahvir, and why would they just give him the artifact?" Cassandra questioned.

Mahvir looked at Atisha, telling her not to speak his old name with his eyes.

"Each of us are among those he rescued," the man stated. He glanced at Mahvir. There was a look of question in his eyes. "We are-"

"Let us just say, he is worthy and leave it at that," Atisha interrupted the other. She shot the other a glare. "This way." She started off, then paused. "Only two of you may follow. The human and female elf with black hair. Mahvir as well," she added.

"Why are the Keeper and the hunter not allowed to come?" Cassandra inquired.

Nimwen flashed the Seeker a glance that said not to question it.

"You are loyal to the black haired elf and she is trusted by," Atisha paused, "Mahvir. If I asked you to stay, you wouldn't."

Mahvir moved at the girl who stayed at his side despite his slow pace. "You shouldn't have stayed, _da'len_ ," he told her once he was out of earshot of Hawen and the hunter.

"Why did you?" asked Nimwen.

"Falon'Din came to us and told us he had killed Dirthamen and thus we were now to serve him. That all the knowledge within the temple was now his," the man replied. Dirthamen remembered he had taken the name Vir, meaning path. "We told him we served only Dirthamen and when he grew violent, killing many of our brethren to get at the secrets here, we sealed the temple. We didn't think you still lived or we would have searched for you. _Ir abelas, hahren_." Vir bowed his head to Mahvir.

"Wait a minute…"

"Cassandra, wait."

"Are you saying that-"

"Cass, please before you overreact-"

"-he is Dirthamen?"

Nimwen jumped between the Seeker and Mahvir. "Cassandra, remember what we talked about earlier," Nimwen reminded her.

"You're telling me that he is one of the _evanuris,_ the elven mage-kings who even _Solas_ felt were corrupt?"

"He wasn't with them!"

Mahvir stopped and turned to the Seeker. "Seeker, I left months before the others killed Mythal. My brother had learned we didn't share the same father and turned on me, trying to kill me for his own gain. So, I left. I am not saying what I did back then was just or uncorrupt. Or that I was a good person."

Atisha scowled at this. "You did much to help the People without the notice of your brother and the others. You brought those they would have killed here, to hid them and raise them away from the blades the others held to our throats." She glared at Cassandra. " _We_ are not his slaves. We wear the _vallaslin_ as a way to remain undetected. We are loyal to the man who protected and raised us."

Vir had moved so he was guarding Mahvir. His eyes locked on Cassandra and one hand resting on his dagger.

Cassandra turned to Nimwen. "I hope you know what you are doing," she said gravely.

"I do." Nimwen turned to Mahvir. "So, where is this artifact of yours?"

Mahvir looked from the Seeker to Nimwen. "There." He pointed up a flight of long, broken steps.

"Some idiot designed the temple poorly," Vir stated to Nimwen.

"I can see that," Nimwen responded, eyeing the stairs. "I would have assumed that would have been on a list of what _not_ to do."

"Oh, it was." Mahvir moved towards the steps. "Then Falon'Din took it off the list and added 'place eluvian in chambers,' so they listened to him."

"We should make haste, before the others get through," Cassandra said.

"I will meet you at the top then, Seeker. Haste isn't my strong point when it comes to stairs." Mahvir gave her a small, weak smile. Stairs where now the bane of his existence. When Falon'Din had taken it off the list of what not to place in the temples, Mahvir hadn't had a bad leg or lungs worsened by a fire. Now, well, it would take him awhile to climb these.

"Let's go," Nimwen said, starting up the steps.

Mahvir started at the same time the Seeker did. By the time the seeker was at the top of the steps he had made it up a fourth of the way. He had to stop there. He leaned against his staff, focusing on easing the tightness in his breathing and the pain in his leg. He started up again. Each step he used his staff to pull him up, holding to it with both hands.

Atisha and Vir stayed a few steps behind him.

"Mahvir," Nimwen whispered to him. "If your breathing acts up, let me know, alright?"

"It's just steps," Mahvir managed to say. Then he had to focus on what he was doing or he's breathing would cause him to collapse instead of make it to the top of the steps.

Minutes dragged by and he had stopped again to try and ease the pain growing in his chest. He pulled out one of the plants even knowing it won't help much. They hadn't even made it halfway up the long flight.

"Go on ahead, the seeker is waiting for you." Mahvir managed to keep the words even.

"Is something wrong?" Cassandra asked from the stair top.

"N-no, we're fine," Nimwen lied.

Seeming unconvinced, Cassandra strode down to them. "You four are taking your time," the Seeker said, but with eyes on Mahvir.

"I did mention stairs aren't my strong point," Mahvir gave the seeker a small smile, his tone friendly. "I can get to the top if you're patient, Seeker."

"Unfortunately, I am not patient."

"What are you doing?" Nimwen asked when Cassandra grabbed Mahvir.

Mahvir looked at her hands. He had a sinking feeling on what was about to happen. He didn't try to fight the Seeker. She was far stronger than he was.

"Making haste."

The next moment, Mahvir was jerked up off the ground. He found himself draped across the seeker's shoulders. Her armor bit into his hip and ribs. He forced himself to relax. She held to his arms and legs.

"What are you doing?" Vir demanded.

Atisha held out her arm to stop the other from attacking Cassandra. "If _hahren_ isn't fighting her, it will be fine," her voice was soft; yet, stern.

"Sorry," Nimwen whispered to Mahvir, smiling sheepishly.

"It's fine," he muttered back.

The group made it up the stairs faster than if she hadn't carried Mahvir. Though, there was a part of him which was rather annoyed he had gotten so slow she had to carry him up the stairs in the first place.

"Cass, be careful," Nimwen urged. She hovered around the Seeker like a mother hen.

"Did you expect me to toss him?" Cassandra asked as she, carefully, set Mahvir down. "I can be reasonable, Inquisitor."

"I know." Nimwen eyed Mahvir up and down, as if expecting to find wounds from being carried.

Mahvir nodded to the seeker. The feeling of Nimwen's eyes on him, made Mahvir shift a little. No one had looked at him for injury like this before and it was rather disconcerting. He turned his attention to the doors before them, more to try and shove aside the feeling than anything else. He felt Deceit return to her perch on his staff while Fear was looking down from the door top.

"Now, that was the best thing to see," Fear clicked his beak and let out a few caws of laughter. "Do so again, Mortal Quick Child, it was well worth being displaced to watch."

"I don't think I shall become used to that," Cassandra said, eyeing the ravens wearily. "What are they, actually?"

"Your understanding of demons," Mahvir stated as he watched Atisha and Vir take over the opening of the heavy double doors. "Except they are ancient now and thus have more personality to them than is commonly seen in other demons of Fear or Deceit. Neither can shift back to their original form and they bound to me until I die."

"Then we die." Fear snapped his beak in annoyance. "Thus we will never let you die, Dirthamen." His eyes eyes gleamed as burning coals from above them.

Mahvir didn't react to the jib on his greatest fear. He was used to the demon reminding him his fear was his fate.

Cassandra opened her mouth as if to speak. Instead she sighed. "I'm not even going to argue. So long as they are under your control, we will have no problem."

"Thank you, Cassandra," Nimwen replied, sounding relieved. "And think of it this way, no demon who's a fan of Varric's books can be _all_ bad, right?"

Cassandra groaned and began to walk.

"Does this mean I can't meet Vair-Vair?" Deceit asked. Her wings and head drooped. "I was looking forward to it too."

Mahvir sighed and rubbed his eyes. "A topic for later discussion, I think." He limped after the Seeker and into the chambers beyond.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

"Yes, it's a fire rune."

"How many things did Dagna put on that?" Cassandra asked in disbelief.

"I'm fairly sure I'm more armed than an Antivan Crow," Nimwen scoffed. During their journey through the temple she'd been discovering more little features of her prosthetic that Dagna seemed to not mention in her note. So far aside from the hidden silverite blade, Nimwen discovered a secret compartment for emergency lyrium, dispensers that would coat the blade in _two_ types of poison, a cord with a dart at the end that could be shot out on command, and now, a rune Nimwen could only assume would set either her hook or the blade on fire; knowing Dagna, it was probably both.

"It's a wonder that thing does not weigh you down," Cassandra said.

"It's a wonder it hasn't accidentally killed me yet," Nimwen retorted. "The first one almost succeeded, I don't need this one getting any ideas."

"It should concern me that you didn't always have such a dark sense of humor, Inquisitor."

"I've found the best way to survive the grim and fatalistic is with humor."

The room Nimwen entered was spacious. Pillars linded a central pathway which led to a dias where a destroyed eluvian rested. Two golden ravens flanked the eluvian. On either side of the pillars was a slight rise. One side was covered in tomes and shelves upon shelves of books. The other side held a passage which led to what sounded like water. There was stone slab nested into a corner on that side. Gold lined the walls and pillars, though it had faded with countless centuries of neglect.

"Look at all of them," Nimwen said as she eyed the books. Her eyes scanned the tomes, still intact despite being sealed away for centuries. "What subjects do you have? History? Literature? Magic? Are they all written the same or did the ancient elvhen have dialects?" She had never seen so much elven writing in one place. The only other time had been the _Vir Dirthara_ , but so few had been in a condition to read. The books lining the shelves looked like they had been pulled from Skyhold's library. "Can I read one? I've been able to read more since drinking from the _Vir Abelasan_ , but I been wanting to practice more-"

"We need to stay focused," Cassandra reminded her.

Nimwen sighed. "Cassandra, do you not see what is before you? This alone has to be worth more than every book in Val Royeaux."

Mahvir had limped over to the book shelf and pulled out several of the books. "Those you are welcome to take with you." He pointed to the stack he had made. "The rest... " He trailed off. From his bag he pulled out a rune of fire and moved so it was pointed at the bookshelves. The next moment the shelves were lit in flames. "The rest have information Solas could use to access the Fade without an anchor."

Nimwen bit back the urge to cry. It was childish, tearing up over books. But she had grown up with the remainder of the knowledge lost to her people, and to see more burning right in front of her… _'There was no other choice,'_ she reminded herself. It was the only way to keep it from Solas. From Solas. Nimwen forced her eyes away from the flames, towards the small stack of books that were spared. She went to them, cradling them in her hand and hook.

" _Ma serannas,"_ she said quietly to Mahvir. She held them to her chest.

"All the information which these books held is here." Mahvir pointed to his head. "This is my research, Nimwen. Before I was known as the Keeper of Secrets, I was the foremost researcher in magical theory, history, politics," he paused, "anything that caught my interest really. The concept behind the magic for the eluvians was my doing. I brought the idea to Solas and June and they made it a reality. The fact remains if Solas got his hands on any of this it could lead him straight to his goals through easier means than the anchor. I don't claim his knowledge of the workings of the Fade. There he knows far more than I ever will."

This helped lift some of the gloom that settled over Nimwen. It also reminded her just how incredible Mahvir was. _'So much knowledge, and he has it all. Solas has no idea what an amazing person he created.'_ Yes, Mahvir was brilliant, just as Solas was brilliant. A shadow crept in from her subconscious. It wasn't just Solas though, was it? Surely Mahvir's mother had some part to play? After all, one did not have the great Mythal as his mother without some twinge of excellence getting passed on. What an amazing child they had made.

' _And you're no Mythal.'_

"Where do we go next?" Nimwen asked quickly. "I hear water coming from somewhere."

"That isn't where the last item which needs to be destroyed is." Mahvir limped around the room. He knelt down close to the passage leading into another chamber. A soft grinding of stone followed. When he straightened he held a round, large object wrapped in fine clothes. "Seeker, I will need your aid to destroy this." He limped back towards them as he unwrapped the clothes to reveal a Foci.

Nimwen's eyes widened. "That's what we came for?" she asked. It looked so similar to Corypheus's-no, _Solas's_ Foci. It was so small, simple in design. It didn't look like something that could rip the world asunder.

"What do you need?" asked Cassandra.

"You're ability to nullify magic. There is another artifact there," - he nodded towards the door where an object rested on a pedestal - "which should amplify your abilities. If enough magical nullification is translated into the Foci it will crumble without destroying us or ripping apart the fabric of time."

"Are you certain?" the Seeker questioned as she walked towards the artifact.

"Well, I never had someone to test that particular device. Everyone thought I was insane for even suggesting a form of magical nullification. So there is about a point three percent chance it could backfire and kill everyone in this room. Which is why I would suggest Lady Nimwen, Atisha, and Vir leave the room."

"Oh, no, you two are _not_ going to perform some risky magic experiment and expect me to wait patiently outside," Nimwen objected.

"Inquisitor, according to him the chance is low, and while I am uneasy about using this magic, if it means denying Solas what he seeks we have little choice," said Cassandra. "And no good will come of you dying as well, if it comes to that. Think of Lori."

Nimwen's breath stopped. Of course. Sometimes, when the world's problems swirled around her, she would for a moment forget that her life was no longer hers alone. She nearly hit herself for risking leaving Lori without her. "Of course," she muttered. "I shall leave you two to see this through. Just be careful, please."

"I will take no unneeded risks," Cassandra vowed.

Nimwen looked to Mahvir. "You too."

"No risks are unneeded," he joked. His features straightened. "I assure you, Lady Nimwen, the future this happens to destroy us is dim and is growing dimmer. Even still, if Solas gets a hold of this Foci, he will have access not only to time magic but to what knowledge I stored within it. If it isn't destroyed then destroying the books would have been pointless."

"Very well." Nimwen turned to the other elves. "Let us leave them be."

Atisha and Vir bowed to Mahvir before they turned and left the room. They closed the doors into the room after Nimwen.

"He's never wrong," Vir told Nimwen. "He might deny his sight as true, but he's never wrong."

"I suppose that's a good thing," she said. Yet, the idea of knowing the outcome of every aspect of the world… "I imagine it can't be easy, though."

"To know your theory will fail before you enact on it or to know your fate and have no way out of it? No, I imagine it isn't easy. I imagine such knowledge is a curse; yet, he's always tried to use his knowledge to aid others. Even if he knew the outcomes in doing so." Vir looked towards the door. "We were all children when we were brought here. Slaves who were thrown aside because we were infants or those who were deemed unworthy to make it. He raised us and kept us safe. He might view himself a monster but we know the truth."

Nimwen smiled. "I'm glad there are others who know the truth." So he took slaves into his care? _'Like father like son,'_ she supposed. "Did you ever meet Solas? Fen'Harel?" she asked.

Atisha looked at Nimwen. "No."

"Most of us have only left this temple once, my lady. When Dirthamen brought us here, we were safe and there was no reason to leave unless it was needed. Only one legless boy left and it was because he would have drawn attention to this. We helped nurse him back to health and Atisha saw him to a band of travelers." Vir glanced at the doors. "We'll leave now, with him."

"I wish I could offer you a place to stay," Nimwen said. "I would have let you come to Skyhold but...it is no longer mine to offer sanctuary." Nimwen's heart ached for her stone fortress. It had become her home away from home, and then her actual home. She longed to return to it, a spot of spring in the middle of the snow, where she was greeted with smiles and thanks and there were friends there who loved her. But her friends were gone now, off on their own adventures. And her beloved Skyhold was once again empty.

"We will work as his eyes and ears," Atisha stated. "There is no need for a place to stay."

"Our thanks for offering, Lady." Vir bowed his head to Nimwen.

A soft sound came from the other room and the next moment Fear leapt down from his perch. He landed on Nimwen's head. "Dirthamen says they're done and it's safe to enter."

Nimwen had tensed upon Fear's landing, but she tried not to startle the creature. Given her last interaction with Deceit, she was thankful Fear at least tolerated her enough to touch her. "Nothing went wrong?" she asked.

"Not unless you count a stupid request on his part as 'going wrong,'" the bird snapped his beak in annoyance at whatever Mahvir had requested of Cassandra.

"Okay." Nimwen decided to find out for herself and re-entered the chamber. "Everyone alive in here?"

"We live, Lady Nimwen." Mahvir and Cassandra stood a part. Both devices had been reduced to dust on the floor alongside the smoldering remains of the books. "We can depart when you're ready."

"Alright. But what should we do about Solas's people still in the temple? Shouldn't they be dealt with?"

"Not unless we all have a death wish and I was unaware others shared that wish with me," Mahvir joked. He smiled at Nimwen.

Fear snapped his beak several times and launched into the air. He landed on Mahvir's shoulder. "You will never die," Fear huffed. "Unless you keep standing in this smoke filled room. Your lungs can't handle it."

"Fine, fine." Mahvir limped passed Nimwen and out to the top of the stairs.

"But it can't be good for them to roam the temple, what if they find something?" Nimwen pressed as she followed Mahvir.

Mahvir looked at her. "Outside of what was held in this room, there is nothing of use or power left here."

"Unless you count you. In that case there is _something_ he can use here," Fear snapped.

"Oh, yes, they could use a limping old elfy," Deceit cawed with laughter. "I can see it now. Fenny tells him to give up all secrets and-" Deceit gagged on her words from the slightest gesture from Mahvir.

"Enough, Deceit, Fear." Mahvir started down the steps. "There is nothing left here."

"It is done, Inquisitor," said Cassandra. "We have done what we came here for, what should be done now is to return to Val Royeaux."

' _Yes, because Val Royeaux was so terribly missed.'_ Nimwen sighed. "Alright, let's go."

Mahvir was being helped down the stairs by Vir with Atisha close behind them. Vir held to his arm while it looked like Atisha was watching incase he fell. Both cast a look back at Cassandra as if telling her not to pick up Mahvir again.

"Do you need help carrying those?" Cassandra asked Nimwen, regarding her books.

"I got it." Carrying books when one of your hands was a hook was not the easiest thing to do. Still, Nimwen felt she needed more practice with her new prosthetic. "So, what do you plan to do once we get back to the city?" Nimwen asked Mahvir.

"Help plan for the next step in stopping Solas," he replied. The words were quick and he sounded a little of breath. Most of his focus was on placing his bad leg on the next step. It appeared he wasn't too happy with relying on Vir for help.

"Do have any ideas?"

"At the moment, not tripping." Mahvar moved his staff down to the step below before he followed with his bad leg then his good.

"A noble goal," Nimwen replied with a smirk.

Mahvir managed to make it down the steps without tripping. He stopped to catch his breath. "They're most likely in the temple proper by now. We might be able to make it to the passage we used to get down here without notice if we move with caution."

"Let's go. I'd rather we avoid another fight," Nimwen said.

"Agreed." Mahvir led them back to where the Keeper and hunter stood waiting.

"What happened? Did you learn anything about Dirthamen we didn't know? Ohhh, I wish I could have gone." The hunter pelted Nimwen with questions. "What was it like? Was it amazing? I bet it was. Are those books on our history? Have you looked through them yet?"

"Not yet," Nimwen said. "They are written in elvish, so it will take time to translate them." At least that wasn't a lie.

"Oh," the girl blinked.

"I hope those hold some clue to our past," the Keeper stated as he fell in beside Nimwen.

Somehow Nimwen had ended up in the middle of the now larger group. The eight sentinels had spread themselves out around them. Atisha and Vir followed close behind Mahvir and Cassandra was behind Nimwen.

"I'm sure they will," she replied. She intentionally left out the part about burning the majority of the library. "Too bad so little of written elvish is remembered."

Mahvir had stopped just in the door leading from the first trial to the second. He stood rooted to the spot.

"Back!" Fear whispered at the others. "Don't come in sight of the door."

"What's going on?" Cassandra whispered, hand on her sword.

An odd feeling raced through the room. Mahvir turned to them. "Atisha, take them through the other passages. Fear will go with you to help guide the way back to the surface." His voice shook and he spoke in normal tones. "I must remain here or they will know something is wrong." He looked at Cassandra. "I will join you as soon as I can. You have my word they won't follow you out."

"What are you doing, Mahvir?" Nimwen demanded. "We are not leaving you here."

Sweat coated his face. His skin had lost color. "I couldn't move from this position even if I wanted to. It's taking most of my focus to keep time still and you lot unaffected by it."

"We'll see them to safety," Atisha vowed as she bowed at the waist to Mahvir.

"We're not leaving you," Vir protested.

"You must, Vir." Mahvir turned his dark gaze on Vir.

Nimwen was torn. She knew they had to leave, but she couldn't just abandon Mahvir, not when it looked like he was about to keel over. "What are you going to do? How are you going to get out?"

Mahvir gave her a weak smile. "I will buy all of you enough time to get to the surface then enter another passage and rejoin you. Please, trust me when I say I will rejoin you still breathing. I might be barely breathing but I will be breathing. I promise."

Nimwen felt a tightness in her chest. This still didn't feel right. She could just sense something was going to happen. She felt an armored hand on her shoulder.

"Inquisitor, we must go," Cassandra said.

Nimwen turned back to Mahvir. "Come back safe, alright? Lori told me she wanted to show you her bugs."

"I look forward to seeing them." Mahvir turned. "Go with haste, Atisha."

Atisha nodded and turned to them. "This way." She led them back into the chamber where they had first met them. She touched a piece of the wall and an opening appeared before her. "In, quickly."

Nimwen ducked inside, Cassandra following.

"I know you are worried about him," the Seeker said. "But he is stronger than you think."

"I hope you're right," Nimwen replied.

A soft fluttering of wings and the feeling of a feather brushing Nimwen's cheek was followed by a weight on her shoulder. "I will feel if any harm comes to him," Fear's voice was in her ear. "Even if wounded Deceit will ensure he lives. For if he dies, we die and we will never let him die. Even if we must exhaust every last scrap of energy in our bodies to heal his, he will live and thus we will."

"Thanks...I guess?" Despite it being obvious the demons' reasons for keeping Mahvir alive were less-than selfless, it still helped knowing they were looking out for him, regardless of their motivation.

"Ah, I remember these passages." Fear settled himself further onto Nimwen's shoulder. "Tricky ones that anyone else would get lost in. It's a maze. I will guide you through it."

"Guide away," Nimwen said.

So Fear set to work telling Nimwen which passage to lead the group down. He didn't move from her shoulder to actually "guide" them and instead seemed to content himself with his new perch.

"You're shoulder is soft," he commented after a time of going down a straight passage.

"I'm glad you're pleased," Nimwen chuckled.

"Mavhir's shoulder is nothing but cloth covered bone," Fear grumbled and shifted on her shoulder. "It was better centuries ago when people reminded him to actually eat something."

"He doesn't eat?" That caught Nimwen's attention. She'd noticed Mahvir was a bit on the skinny side, but she'd assumed he was naturally lanky.

"He eats enough to keep Deceit and I from shoving food down his throat to keep him alive." Fear's eyes were lidded. "He's never been big on food. He, one, doesn't like the taste of most foods and, two, forgets food is necessary when working."

' _For the love of-'_ That's it. When they all returned to Val Royeaux, Nimwen was going to make sure he ate. She was going to make as many things as she knew how to cook and she would make certain he eat at least half a plate. She would even make the ravens their own plate, so he would have no excuse. _'I'll even tell Lori that Mahvir needs to eat. She'll guilt trip him into it,'_ she thought mischievously.

"Just don't let him read or write or do anything but eat," Fear muttered. "He will forgot the food is there." It was as if the raven could read her thoughts.

"Good to know," Nimwen replied. She was already compiling a list of things she was going to cook once they returned to the city. It was the only thing keeping her from worrying about Mahvir.

"If you're cooking for us too, sweet foods are my favorite." Fear blinked open his eyes.

"Pie or cake?"

"Either as long as it's extra sweet." Fear straightened. "Ah, there's the exit, there," he pointed to a staircase. "I believe it will lead a mile or two from that other entrance we used to get down into the temple in the first place."

"We should hurry," Cassandra urged.

"Right," Nimwen replied.

"For what reason? To get to the horses faster?" Fear hunked back down on Nimwen's shoulder. "You mortals are always in such a hurry. Hurry there, hurry here, hurry this way and that. One would think everything is crumbling around your ears."

"Just wait a few minutes, knowing me something is sure to go awry," Nimwen said, sardonic.

"Humph, you've not spent the past seventy centuries with an immortal elf who knows everything will go wrong and still walks straight into the chaos. Beat that and I will be impressed, Little Mortal."

' _Little mortal indeed.'_

"How much longer?" Nimwen asked.

The stairs led them to an opening with just enough room for each of them the squeeze through. Fear took off from her shoulder and went first.

Nimwen side-stepped her way through. She had to be careful lest she got Shockmaw caught on something. She managed to squeeze her way out on the other side. "Come on, Cassandra."

"It's a bit...more difficult," the warrior grunted.

Cassandra was pushed through the gape and Atisha appeared, dusting off her hands. Without a word she moved a little into the field and looked around. Vir followed after Atisha then the keeper, the hunter, and the other six sentinels followed one by one.

"Took all of you long enough." Fear landed on Nimwen's shoulder. "Think you can find your horses?" he asked sounding more than half asleep.

"I think so," Nimwen said. She turned to look back where they came from.

"He will be fine," Cassandra assured her.

The soft breathing from Fear sounded in the next heartbeat.

"That bird will wake shrieking his head off if Mahvir is injured," Vir told Nimwen. "If he's sleeping then I wouldn't be worrying any."

"Alright," Nimwen sighed. "Let's go get the horses."

* ~ x ~ *

Solas led the way into the temple, Melda at his side. The air was lit in the soft green glow of the veil fire he had taken from the entrance. The light fell over the remains of stone guardians and undead alike. His eyes narrowed as they fell over the main guardian of this temple. It would have taken a great force to destroy it and it lay shattered in small pieces through the waterlogged temple.

"Stay on alert," he told Melda.

"Yes, my lord," she responded, daggers in hand.

Water moved around Solas's feet as he led the group deeper into the temple. The battle which had taken place here pointed to at least two mages, a warrior, and a rogue being present. Burns could be seen on some of the stone while the remains of ice walls stood melting and shattered. Arrows were broken in the stone or embedded deep into rotten flesh of the undead. Some of the wounds appeared to have been made by a sword. At least four had ventured down here and made it passed the guardians.

Solas stepped out of the water and into the passage which led to the main part of the temple. His eyes cut through the darkness with ease. The doors were already open, this much he could tell through all of the gloom. His hand moved to his staff. The sharp metal clicked against stone with each step he took. The feeling of the staff in his hand made his heart flutter with the brief memory of who had made it for him. He shoved it back in the presence of this situation.

There was a faint feeling of the magical wards which had been placed on the large doors into the main temple. Solas frowned. "Have a few people remain here," he instructed Melda.

"You two, stay here," Melda said to a pair of the elves accompanying them.

The two elves saluted and took positions on either side of the doors.

"Do you think they managed to get to the Foci?" Melda asked as they passed through.

"That depends entirely on who it is here," Solas replied. Dirthamen's trials weren't easy especially for normal people to get through. If -

His thought was cut off as his eyes locked on a familiar figure standing in the entrance from the first trial to the second. Shock swept through Solas. It could not be.

The elf who stood in their way was stooped, his pale skin almost sickly from exhaustion. Long black hair fell around his narrow face and down his back in a matted mess. Dried blood was tangled into the strands Solas remembered being clean and sleek. Dark, tattered remains of robes which appeared to have been little better than rags stitched together hung off a form which looked too small for the cloths.

"You," Solas breathed.

"Who are you?" Melda demanded. She stepped in front of Solas, daggers raised. "Identify yourself."

"My, what company you keep in this century, Solas." The man gave the girl a tired smile. "She seems full energy. _Da'len_ , I'm not here to fight you or Solas. I am simply standing in this door."

"Can we eat her?" a raven asked from the top of his staff. "She looks like she might taste good."

"No, you can't eat her."

"It-it talked," Melda stammered eyes wide. She turned to Solas. "My lord, who is he?"

Solas could barely hear Melda. He wasn't certain if he could believe his eyes. "Dirthamen? How is this possible? How did you escape?"

"Better question would be: was I ever captured?" Dirthamen asked.

"So, I can't eat her eyes at the very least?" it asked Dirthamen, blue eyes pleading.

"No, Deceit, you can't eat _any_ of her." Dirthamen shook his head. "Honestly, what's with you and suddenly wanting to eat somebody?"

Deceit cocked her head. "Well, it means I might get to meet Vair-Vair, but only if we get out of this mess alive. I want to meet Vair-Vair."

Who the heck was Vair-Vair? Solas frowned. He then shook his head and lifted his staff. "I take it you have your Foci?"

"Me? No. It's now dust though. Neither of us will be using it, at all."

There was a lightness to the way Dirthamen spoke. It was joking and yet filled with pain and sorrow.

Solas scowled.

"Why would you destroy it?" Melda questioned. "Lord Fen'Harel he cannot be trusted. This must be a trap."

"And such a trap it is, one crippled man with a talking bird against two armed, healthy members of the People. One of which is a mage of unequal power. I think I have better odds trying to fly, wouldn't you?" his tone was straight now despite the words.

"Are you trying to get them to attack us?" Deceit demanded. "I thought you were more clever than that, Dirthy. What about the romance you promised I could read? And meeting Vair-Vair?"

"Can we discuss this later, Deceit?" Dirthamen asked.

Deceit huff, her beak clicking together in annoyance.

Solas moved forward a step. He kept facing Dirthamen but made a quick check for any sign of Fear. There was no sight of the second bird or anyone close to Dirthamen. What was his nephew thinking? If it came down to a battle between them, in the exhausted state Dirthamen was in, Solas would win no matter how long his nephew had been awake for.

"If you were never with the others then where were you?" Solas asked his voice calm despite the questions running through his mind. "I saw you there."

"Ah, now that is a far more interesting question and one, I fear, you must discover the answer to without my meddling." Dirthamen looked at Solas with his dark eyes filled with sorrow.

Solas felt the rage he had been keeping in check start to come out. He remembered seeing Dirthamen there. This wasn't the boy Solas had known, it was a cold blooded murderer, a man who would kill his own mother for his own ends. An eternity of torment with the others was the only sentence Dirthamen should have been paying. Along with his father and brother.

"You're angry," Dirthamen stated. "I can see the attack coming. You remember my… _gift_ , Solas. You know how to beat me, but I don't wish to involve the child in this."

"Don't underestimate me," Melda warned him. She looked to Solas. "Give me the word, my lord."

Solas glanced at her. She was a good fighter but against Dirthamen- no, she wouldn't stand a chance. "Stand down, Melda. This is between Dirthamen and I." Solas twisted the staff around him. His eyes burned as he looked towards Dirthamen. The power to turn him to stone.

In the blink of an eye, Dirthamen was gone from where he had been standing. He stood only a few paces from where he had moments before. His breathing uneven and face damp.

Solas frowned. Something was different about Dirthamen. He knew his nephew had bad lungs and a frail body but that little movement had never taken _that much_ out of him.

"How did he do that?" Melda gasped.

"I have no desire to fight you, Solas." Dirthamen moved so both his hands were on the simple staff he held. It looked as if he was placing all of his weight on it. "You don't need to undo what happened twenty centuries ago," Dirthamen stated. "This world is a wonder. The people deserve life just as surely as those from our time did."

"Tell that to those enslaved," Solas managed to keep his voice even. "The countless millions you killed or helped Falon'Din kill. You, not I, destroyed this world."

Dirthamen flinched. "I don't deny my crimes, Solas. I know I will be forever atoning for what I did back then. But you can't undo your crime by repeating it or placing blame on me. Yes, we were corrupt and, yes, we would have awoken something which would have destroyed the world, but how does that justify your actions now?"

Solas moved towards Dirthamen. Lightning crackled off the staff's tip. Dirthamen vanished again and reappeared only inches from where he had stood. His grip slid on his staff, breathing uneven.

"I know I am not the one who can convince you," he panted as he backed up into the door once more. He kept moving back. "I know I am forever cast as the villain in your eyes and seeing me here, 'free' will only make you fight harder."

Dirthamen was too weak now to use his magic. The retreat was clear sign of this as well as the fact his last dodge has moved him inches.

"Melda, your blade," Solas whispered to the girl and held out his hand.

Melda strode to her master's side. She handed him one of her blades, eyeing Dirthamen with mild curiosity.

Solas took the blade and replaced his staff on his back. He moved up the few steps onto the dais. Dirthamen was meaning to close the door. Solas Fade stepped forward until he stood right before his nephew.

Dirthamen looked into Solas's eyes. There was only sorrow there, no shock, nothing but the sorrow and a pain hidden deep down in a vain hope Solas couldn't see it.

Solas thrust out his arm, meaning to strike Dirthamen in the gut. Dirthamen's form blurred. The blade sank into his hip and stuck bone. A gasp escaped Dirthamen. He pitched forward. His hand wrapped around Solas's arm. The hold weaker than Solas ever remembered his nephew being.

"If you destroy this world," the words were low and pained, "you will be destroying more than your heart but your daughter as well." Dirthamen looked up into Solas's face. His hand clutched Solas's arm and the staff for support. "Can you live with yourself if you kill her as well, Solas?"

Solas blinked. The dagger slid from his grasp. Daughter? No, the child of Nimwen wasn't Solas's. He knew the child had to be from another. "I have no child."

A pained laugh came from Dirthamen. He staggered back. Blood trailed after him. "You have the world you once wanted and can't even see it. I pity and envy you, Solas."

Solas made to move after Dirthamen.

In the next instance, Dirthamen was gone. Blood fell from where he had stood and the path he had taken. Solas looked after his nephew. The words rang in his ears.

"Where did he go?" Melda asked. She spun in search of Dirthamen, but he was gone. "Shall we go after him, my Lord?"

"There's no point, he could be miles from here by now."

"Great," Melda griped. "What was he going on about a girl? I was unaware the Inquisitor had a child. Or was that another lie of his?"

"She has a child, though I have never seen the child with my own eyes. The spies I have within their group told me of the child's existence before you joined me." Solas moved forward. The blood trailed led through the second trial and vanished into the other room. He was using it as a distraction from the thought of his _vhenan_ having another man's child. She had still loved him when he'd seen her a month ago, but two years was a long time for a mortal to be alone. Despite the fact she had a child, he still loved her and still longed to be with her and, yet, in doing so he would forget himself.

"You are certain the child is not yours?" Melda asked. "Dirthamen clearly meant to shake you. Perhaps some of our spies could look into it, prove his accusations false?"

"Do that," Solas instructed. He could feel what little of Dirthamen's magic had once been here was gone. The halls echoed as dead and silent as the rest of the world. "There is nothing for us here. I have no reason to doubt Dirthamen would destroy his research and his Foci." There was more troubling him as Solas turned and strode back the way he had come.

"I shall get on it, Lord Fen'Harel," Melda said with a bow.

Solas nodded to her but didn't otherwise respond.

There had been something about Dirthamen. The power in him couldn't have been denied; yet, his body had been far, _far_ weaker than all of Solas's memory of his nephew. It didn't make sense. By all rights, with the power Dirthamen had in him, he had to have been awake for twenty centuries. Twenty centuries, unchanged and still himself rather than a shadow or posing a body like Mythal. Awake, outside of the connection to the Fade, it was impossible. Then how frail he had been, how strained his breathing was. None of it made sense.


	10. Chapter 10

**AUTHORS' NOTES:**

 **Flamewing** **:** **Hey, readers, I haven't placed messages on chapters as of late, but I wanted to say thank you for your support on this story. Also, Herenya and I decided to try and update around three chapters at once to try and push out the story a little faster since we have had all but the editing done on this story for a time now.**

 **Also to the guest reviewer who was wondering about Dirth's past, to get more information on this, feel free to read my fan-fiction** _ **Final Hour**_ **. This story draws from the back history I made there. There are also answers in this story, but to see everything,** _ **Final Hour**_ **will have those answers.**

 **HerenyaHope:** **Greetings lovelies! As Flame said we'll be pumping these chapters out in threes, which is awesome for you guys because you'll get more chapters! Thanks so much for being patient with us and thanks for your continued support!**

 **SHOUT-OUTS GO OUT TO** **:** **Leman of the Russ, and all you other awesome peoples who have been so supportive.**

* * *

Chapter 10:

"I want to thank you again for your help, Keeper," Nimwen said to the older elf.

"Even if part of my clan remains with the Dread Wolf, it was worth it if only to learn a little more about our forgotten history. _Dareth Shiral, da'len_." The Keeper bowed his head to Nimwen.

"Hold on, before you go." Nimwen reached into her bag. She pulled out one of the books Mahvir spared from the fire. "I want you to have this. You helped us greatly and it does no good to the People for me to horde them all." She handed it to him. "We should share our knowledge, after all."

Hawen's eyes grew wide as he looked from her to the book she'd passed him. " _Ma serannas, da'len_. A piece of our People's legacy doesn't bring those now gone back, but it will aid us in uncovering more of our past." He bowed his head to her once more. "You have my deepest thanks."

Nimwen smiled. _"Dareth shiral, hahren_. Give my best to your clan."

" _Dareth shiral_ , _falon_." Hawen turned and, with the hunter at his side, set out towards where the rest of his clan waited.

The Keeper and hunter had only just vanished, when a shriek shot through Nimwen's ear. A wing struck her in the head.

"What's going-?" Nimwen's eyes widened. "Fear? Fear, what's wrong?"

"Dirthamen!" Fear launched himself from Nimwen's shoulder and flew into the bushes. A moment later there was a sound of a body striking the ground.

"Mahvir?" Nimwen sprinted through the brush towards him, a million possibilities flashing through her mind.

Mahvir gasped as he pulled a dagger from his hip. Blood pooled into the dried grasses around him. He managed to push himself up into a sitting position. His skin was ghostly white and breathing pained.

"Cassandra, get the bandages, _now_ ," Nimwen ordered. She heard Cassandra run back to the horses as Nimwen knelt beside Mahvir. "I need you to relax," Nimwen said, her voice gentle. She helped him to lean against a tree and immediately began to examine his wound. "If you can speak, tell me what happened," she said.

"I got stabbed," he panted. "I would think that was clear." There was a teasing note to his voice, though it shook with effort to speak.

Fear pecked him in the head.

Mahvir gasped a little. "There were two of them who entered the trial room. I managed to keep them distracted for a time; then, I misjudged an attack and ended up stabbed."

' _This isn't good,'_ Nimwen thought gravely. The wound was deep and the bone was probably struck as well. "I need to stop the bleeding," she told him. Her hand was growing red where it was pressed to the gash. She looked down at him, and sighed. There was no getting around it. "This is not going to be easy. I have to cauterize it or it'll get worse, understand?"

Mahvir bowed his head in understanding.

"Cass?" Nimwen called.

"I found them," the Seeker said. She ran to them, a roll of bandages in hand.

"Good, set them beside me," Nimwen said. "And, Cassandra, I need you to hold him down."

Cassandra nodded.

They managed to get into position, with Cassandra sitting behind Mahvir her arms around him, just enough to keep him from thrashing.

Nimwen straddled his legs, to prevent him from kicking her. "Ready?" she asked.

Mahvir inclined his head.

Nimwen bowed her head, and focused solely on the wound. She didn't want to see his face. She felt her hand heat up as she summoned the fire spell. Fire had never been her strong suit, but it would be good enough. "Don't let him move," she warned Cassandra. Her heated hand hovered over the bloody gash. " _Ir abelas_ ," she whispered. She stuck two fingers into the knife wound.

Mahvir stiffened, but didn't cry out or make another sound.

Nimwen didn't know whether to be relieved or disturbed his screams weren't filling her ears. Her mind harkened back to the experiments he told her about, and she shuddered. What had Elgar'nan done that made burning flesh tolerable? Nimwen felt her stomach turn at the sound of sizzling. She pulled her fingers out and pressed her palm to the wound opening in order to seal it.

"We're almost done," she said, trying to sound assuring. Despite her fear, she glanced up to see his face.

Mahvir's eyes were squeezed shut and he was whispering something under his breath. The words couldn't be made out. Some of it sounded elvhen while other parts of it were in common. He looked paler than before. Otherwise there was an unnerving calm about him.

Nimwen bit her lip. He was in so much pain, and, yet, still he kept quiet. It wasn't right. He should have been screeching, howling. She _wanted_ him to. She wanted him to allow his emotions to be unleashed, to express what he was feeling. She wanted him to know it was okay.

"You're fine, you're all right," she murmured, voice soft like when she would rock Lori during teething pains.

She reached out to stroke the hair from his face, to try and be comforting, but before she did the metal hook on her arm glinted before her. She retracted her fake hand, and kept her eyes on her work.

"We're done," Nimwen said when she felt the wound was sealed. She cancelled the fire spell and sat back, letting out a sigh. "Cassandra, help me get the rest of his robe off so we can bandage him," Nimwen said.

"Very well."

"Mahvir, are you still awake?" Nimwen asked. She actually hoped he was not fully conscious, as it would make bandaging easier.

Mahvir's eyes snapped open. "I can bandage the wound, Lady Nimwen. You've my thanks for stopping the bleeding." His voice was calm. All signs of pain gone from his face. It looked as if he had never been stabbed in the first place.

Nimwen shook her head. "Oh, no, you are not going to agitate this thing after I just sealed it."

"I would have to agree with her. You already worsened the damage by your travelling here," Cassandra added.

"Which is why you are going to sit still and let us take care of you, understood?"

Mahvir closed his eyes then lowered his head.

He straightened. He unlatched the upper part of his robes. The robe fell away revealing a tattered black shirt. The shirt hung off his thin shoulders. He managed to get out of it just as careful as before. When the shirt fell away, it revealed a long scar cutting down from his right shoulder towards his left hip and vanishing into the scar which drew the eye.

A massive burn scar laced his left arm as well as the left side of his chest and side, flesh whiter than even his normal colored skin, tinged with a pink. The scar twisted up his neck and vanished in his hair just under his jaw.

Nimwen's eyes widened, but she quickly reined in her surprise. Mahvir didn't need her gasping over his scars. "All right, Cassandra, hold the end here while I begin wrapping," she said, as if she never saw the marred skin. She slowly started to wind the white fabric around his thin torso. "It needs to be snug, but tell me if it's too tight," she said to Mahvir. _'Though I doubt it could be.'_

Fear hadn't been exaggerating when he said Mahvir was underweight. The sight of his thin frame, verging on skeletal, made a knot form in Nimwen's chest. Her mind flickered to images of Lori, looking starved and wraith-like, and she vowed that she would put food in Mahvir even if she had to shove it down his throat.

Mahvir didn't speak. He wasn't looking at either woman. The tips of his ears were red and he somehow was able to keep the tinge from his cheeks. It was clear he was more than a little embarrassed, sitting there half naked.

Nimwen wanted to assure him he was fine, that there was nothing to be embarrassed of, but she had a feeling bringing it up would only make it worse. So, she continued on, layering the bandages around his torso. "Just a minute, gotta tie…" Nimwen blinked when she realized she couldn't tie a knot with one hand. "Um, Cassandra?"

"I'll handle it."

Nimwen shuffled aside to allow the Seeker room.

Cassandra quickly tied up the bandages.

"There, good as new," Nimwen said with a clap. "Does it feel alright, or is it too tight? Too loose? Just let me know and I'll adjust it. Or, I guess, Cassandra will adjust it."

The moment Nimwen said she was done, Mahvir pulled back on the tattered remains of his shirt. "It's fine. _Ma serannas_ , Lady Nimwen, and to you as well, Seeker." The words were a little rushed. He continued to pull on the layers and layers of clothing he wore. Then he used his staff to pull himself to his feet.

"Take it easy," Nimwen urged. She stood up and brushed the grass from her robes. "There's no need to rush."

Mahvir glanced towards her; then, looked away. The quick flicker of his eyes was enough to make it clear he was still feeling self conscious. "It'll be dark soon. We should find a place to camp for the night away from the temple."

Deceit returned to his staff and Fear snapped his beak. The raven looked at Nimwen with his burning gaze. He landed on Nimwen's shoulder. "Don't take it personally. Dirthamen is shy," Fear whispered in her ear before he launched himself off her shoulder. He landed on Mahvir's.

"Let us go get the horses," said Cassandra.

They untethered the horses and Cassandra helped Nimwen onto her mount, then offered to assist Mahvir.

The moment she had turned to offer it, was to see he was already mounted, reins in hand.

"You recover quickly," Cassandra remarked as she got on her horse.

"Vir helped me up," he stated in response and tilted his head to where the eight sentinels stood.

"We won't be following from here," Atisha told Nimwen. "We already have our orders on what is needed for the next stage in stopping the Dread Wolf."

Vir scowled. "I'm staying."

Atisha cocked an eyebrow at him; then shrugged. She gestured to the others. Before anyone could speak, the seven of them vanished into brush and the long shadows of dusk.

"Where are they going?" Nimwen asked.

"Some will change and join the Dread Wolf and others will spread out across Thedas," Mahvir stated. He stirred the mount and turned it so it stood beside Vir. He held out his hand to the sentinel.

Vir's face turned bright red. "I'll walk."

"We may be travelling for a while," Cassandra said.

"I'm not-" Vir sighed and glanced at Mahvir's hand. Then, he looked at the ground. "I will still walk."

Nimwen chuckled. "Do not complain of sore feet then." She started her horse at a trot, taking the lead for a place to camp.

"I think I recall a clearing nearby," Cassandra told Nimwen.

"I think so too. It should be far enough away from the temple." She turned her head. "What do you think, Mahvir-" she paused when she saw how far behind he was.

Mahvir hadn't kicked his horse into a trot like they had. Instead it walked far behind them. The horse was kept at an easy slow pace by Vir who walked next to it.

" _Fenhedis,_ " she cursed. "Come on, Cassandra, we were going to fast."

"Inquisitor, may I ask you something?"

Nimwen raised a brow. "What is it?"

"Before, when we were tending to his wounds. The marks on his skin, they were severe."

Nimwen grimaced. "Yes."

"I did not say anything before, but now we are alone, I was curious whether you knew where they came from."

How was Nimwen supposed to explain to the devout Cassandra that she had been in the presence of Shartan himself? That she had carried him like a sack of potatoes? "He was burned in a fire," Nimwen explained. If Mahvir wanted to reveal his past, it was up to him to decide. "It injured him badly, and made his breathing even worse."

"And the scars?"

"There was…" Nimwen sighed. "People hurt him, long ago. That is all I will say. He's suffered enough horrors and doesn't need them to be dug back up."

"I will not say anything."

"Thank you, Cassandra." Nimwen turned her horse and trotted back to Mahvir, Cassandra following. "Sorry we left you behind," she apologized once they caught up to them. "It didn't occur to me you couldn't ride as fast."

Mahvir looked up from _All this Shit is Weird_. "No harm done. It would just be unwise to trot and risk reopening the wound." He gave her a soft a smile. "I figured you two also needed time to talk. A lot happened this day."

"Next page!" Deceit demanded from atop his head.

He turned the page without looking back at the book.

"Move your head so I can still read."

"You move if you want to read," he retorted to the raven.

Deceit grumbled and shifted on his head so she could continue reading the book.

"How far are you?" Cassandra asked.

Nimwen grinned to herself, seeing how Cassandra was trying to hold in her excitement.

"You just apologized to Varric, if that is what you're wondering?" Mahvir tilted his head one side. "You know, he can't really write Solas or you too well," he stated. "Granted, I don't think most people understand half of what Solas says sometimes."

"I can't believe he put me in the book," Cassandra said quietly, a small smile on her face.

"I still can't believe he named it _All this Shit is Weird_ ," Nimwen chuckled. "It's hard when Lori wants to listen to mama's book but mama can't even say the title."

Mahvir chuckled. "And half the words in this book, I'd imagine. Especially when Sera and the Iron Bull are in the scene."

"Next page." Deceit snapped her beak in annoyance.

Mahvir turned the page though it would have been impossible for him to have read it.

"Yes, maybe we'll save it for when she's older," Nimwen said. The thought of Lori older, while it was an inevitable part of life, Nimwen couldn't imagine Lori as anything but her baby girl. She was only two, almost three, and Nimwen felt like she was growing up too fast. "Speaking of which, her birthday is in two months, and I still need to find her a present."

"Hmm." Mahvir snapped the book closed.

"Hey!" Deceit flapped her wings in anger. "I was still reading that!"

Mahvir ignored the demon raven. "I might be able to aid you there, Lady Nimwen. After we make camp, I will show you what I mean."

Nimwen raised her brow. "All right."

Her curiosity bubbled until they finally reached the clearing. It was a small one, but there was enough space for the horses and for them to sleep comfortably.

"Shall I get a fire going?" Nimwen asked as she dismounted. She was proud she managed to get off her horse without tangling her hook in the reins.

"I will help!" Vir straightened after helping Mahvir down from the horse. He eyes shining despite the rapid approaching darkness of night.

"Alright, you can help me gather wood," Nimwen said to him. "Cassandra, you handle the horses and get the bedrolls out."

"Very well."

"Mahvir, you can help her but I still want you to take it easy. If you feel like you need to sit down, you sit down. No 'buts,' mister."

Mahvir blinked. "I wouldn't dream of arguing with you, Lady Nimwen." He gave her an elegant bow. Then he moved off to help Cassandra with setting up the camp.

"Come along, Vir," Nimwen said to the sentinel.

By the time the two of them returned to the clearing with enough wood, the sun was a sliver on the horizon. Mahvir was seated before the ring of rocks Cassandra was just finishing making. Fear and Deceit had claimed the pillow of one of the bed rolls and were fast asleep, nested together for warmth.

"Cute," Nimwen said as she placed the wood on the ground. She sat beside Mahvir and began to arrange them in the middle of the rocks. "Makes you almost forget they're demons, huh?"

Mahvir chuckled. "Almost," he agreed, "until they smell food then you will remember."

"Are you sure they aren't demons of gluttony?"

"I assure you they're not Hunger Demons, Lady Nimwen. But they did posses ravens and thus need to eat to sustain themselves."

"How did you meet them, and why bind them to you?" Nimwen asked.

Mahvir looked at the ground. "It was right after the war with the Forgotten Ones ended," he started. "Falon and I were out exploring and we ran across a wounded halla. Falon decided to carry the halla to place where she could rest. Because of my frail body I was unable to follow him.

"It was the first time the two of us had been apart for so long and I grew worried as minutes turned to hours and then over a day passed. Two ravens came to me, knowing what I feared and thinking it would be a fun game to play tricks on me. After a time, I tricked them and ended up binding them to me. I ordered them to take me to my brother and they were forced to obey." His voice was hollow throughout this. He closed his eyes when he came to a close.

"And they've been with you since?" Nimwen asked. She'd finally gotten the logs arranged, and with a snap of her fingers a spark struck the wood.

"The way I bound them wasn't by means still known to this day. They are tied to my life. If one is struck down in battle they recover from it instead of dying as normal spirit would. There is no way to undo this binding. It had to be powerful in order to trick them and hold them," Mahvir explained. He pulled out a cloth and started to unwrap it. As it fell away it revealed an oddly shaped piece of wood just a little longer than Mahvir's hand was. Two holes had been started and the general shape reminded Nimwen of a torso of a best.

"What is that?" Nimwen asked.

"The start of a toy." Mahvir passed it to Nimwen. "Lorien liked the raven I had made awhile ago so I figured I would make her a better one, but a wolf this time around. I believe it will be completed in two months."

"That is so sweet," Nimwen smiled. She turned the piece of wood in her hand, and marvelled at its smoothness. "She'll love it. She loves wolves, you know?"

"I gathered as much. This one she will be able to move the legs and head of," he told her. "That's why I am carving out holes at the neck, shoulder and haunches." He pulled out another cloth. This one looked thicker. "You see, twenty centuries ago I didn't know what I was good at which didn't involve magic and learned to carve. I guess it's just gotten more complex until I could involve enchantments." He started to unwind the cloth.

"You must be quite talented," Nimwen said. "Before I discovered I was a mage, I felt like I didn't have any skills that could be useful to my clan. But then I learned to knit from my mother, and I thought I could help by making and mending clothes. Of course, then my magic manifested and I became the Keeper's First. I still kept knitting though."

The cloth fell away to reveal another under. Mahvir started to unwind this one.

"As we all know," Cassandra said, joining the two by the fire. "I still have the scarf you made."

"You kept that?" Nimwen balked. "But it was bad, I made it last minute."

The second cloth fell and there was a third.

"I quite enjoy it," Cassandra retorted, looking almost offended at Nimwen's dismissal of her skills. "It was touching that you went to the trouble of making us all scarves for Emprise du Leon."

The final cloth was unwound to reveal a delicate carving. It was a tiny, golden halla no bigger than Mahvir's hand. It looked almost like the real creature. From the twisting antlers and soft features of the face, the detail was smooth and elegant for such a small carving.

"It's beautiful," Nimwen gasped. She leaned closer to inspect the beautiful piece. "It reminds me of _Hanal'ghilan_."

"Watch." Mahvir stood and moved a safe distance from the fire. He placed the little halla on the ground. "Walk," he instructed.

The halla started walking. Its legs moved in smooth motions and a soft _click, click_ came from it with every few steps.

"Run."

The halla raced forward. It leapt and bound like the larger, living one would.

"Turn left."

The halla obeyed.

"Stop."

The halla slowed to a walk then came to a stop.

"Attack."

The Halla's head moved down and it leapt forward. It went through several motions before coming to a stand still once more.

"That is incredible," Nimwen said as she watched the small halla in wonder.

"Is it some sort of magic?" asked Cassandra.

"Sort of." Mahvir picked up the halla. "I enchanted it but most of what makes the halla move is inside it. I'm not good with magic outside of small enhancements so I crafted these." He returned to his seat and pulled out small wooden objects from his bag. They were gears. Smaller and far more delicate than the metal ones Nimwen had seen before.

"All that movement came from these tiny things?" Nimwen asked. "I find it almost hard to believe. I bet Dagna would have had a ball taking a look at these."

"This is the only one right now." Mahvir looked at the halla. "I just finished figuring out how to get the gears and enchantments to mesh a few days before meeting you for the first time."

"You have quite the talent," Nimwen said. She handed the incomplete wolf back to Mahvir. "I admire it. I also fear what will happen when Lori discovers it. You will have a steady supply of toy requests, that's for certain," she smirked.

Mahvir chuckled. "I fear Lorien is a little too young for this toy. Children her age would try to eat the gears if they ever managed to break the wooden shell. Though, I did have Fear drop this one from about a mile in the air and it didn't affect it." He frowned. Then took Nimwen's hand and pressed the halla into it. "It's yours."

Nimwen blinked. "I... _ma serannas_." Her fingers curled around the halla and she put it in her pocket. "You are very thoughtful, Mahvir. And I have just the place for it."

His eyes softened as he looked at her. "I am glad you like it. What good is there in being able to make them if I can't just give them away?"

"I know, right? I knit all these things though I don't need any of them, given I don't get cold, and it's more enjoyable seeing others have them then just wearing them myself."

Mahvir pulled out a tool and started to work on the wolf body. "I understand… well, not the not getting cold part, but the joy in seeing another smile."

"Mahvir, what's your favorite color?"

"Guess?" He used the tool in small motions to dig out the wood from within the wolf.

Nimwen narrowed her eyes in concentration. "Hmm, well, I can't really think of what could be your favorite, but I think you would _look_ best in… dark purple? The main part of the sweater can be that and I can add detailing in another if you want."

Mahvir stopped carving. "You needn't do that, Lady Nimwen."

Nimwen snorted. "Of course I don't need to, but I want to. It's been so long since I've knitted something for someone."

"Don't try to fight it," Cassandra told him from where she was cooking dinner. "It's easier to just go along with it."

"Thank you, Lady Nimwen." Mahvir bowed his head to her, his voice soft.

Nimwen smiled. "You're welcome, sweetie." As soon as she realized what she just said, she felt her cheeks grow red. In the moment, it felt like she'd been talking to Lori, and the endearment just slipped out. "Um…" _'Fantastic.'_

Mahvir burst out laughing. He fell back onto the ground where he was continued roaring with laughter.

"Don't laugh!" Nimwen's face felt like it was on fire. She groaned, burying her face in her hand and hook. "I'm never going to live this down," she grumbled to herself.

Gasping for air, Mahvir managed to pull himself back into a sitting position. "I was wrong," he struggled to say between trying to breath and the joy still sparkling in his eyes, "you are _nothing_ like Mythal. I am grateful to you, Nimwen."

Nimwen lifted her head. "I-hold on, you thought I was like Mythal?"

"Forgive me for thinking so. You reminded me of how she was with Falon'Din, her other sons, and her daughters. I see now my jumping to conclusions, despite my sight, was narrow minded of me. Never change who you are, Nimwen, for it is someone truly special."

" _Ma serannas_." It didn't escape her that Mahvir left himself out of his statement. "So long as you don't change either," Nimwen added. "The person you are right now, he's a very good person. Keep him."

The laughter died from his eyes to be replaced with pain. "Thank you, Nimwen."

Nimwen frowned. What happened? Did she say something wrong? _'Just when you get him to be happy, you have to ruin it,'_ she scolded herself.

"The food is ready," Cassandra called out. "Somebody should get that Vir boy."

"I can get him," Nimwen offered as she stood up. "You go get food, and you'd better eat it," she told Mahvir.

"I wasn't going to skip a meal," Mahvir gave her a quick smile. " _Ir abelas_ , Lady Nimwen. I didn't meant to turn the subject depressing again. It isn't your fault."

"Food!" Fear leapt into the air from where he had been sleeping. "Food, food. food!"

"You woke me, oaf!" Deceit snapped. She flew after him. They landed close to the fire. Deceit looked up at Cassandra eyes wide and shining, she looked innocent.

"Food?" Fear tilted his head to one side.

"Make them a plate too, Cass," Nimwen said as she went to find Vir.

"You needn't worry about making them a plate, Seeker." Mahvir held up his hand. "They get by with eating my food. No need to give use more than needed."

Nimwen huffed, but made no move to argue. _'No need to upset him more,'_ she thought to herself. She'd let him have this one, but come their return to the city, there was going to be a Mahvir plate, and a birds' plate, no ifs, ands, or buts.

She walked towards the edge of the clearing, to look for where Vir went off to. "Vir?" she called out. The sentinel couldn't have gone far, even for a watch duty.

Movement a little further away caught Nimwen's eye.

"Vir?" Nimwen turned towards the sound. "Dinner is ready, you can take a break. I recommend we go before the ravens eat it all." Nimwen turned back towards the camp.

The soft sound of movement followed the words. A warm hand closed over her mouth and a strong arm wrapped around her chest. " _Vhenan_." The breath was warm against her ear.

Nimwen's eyes widened, and she felt her heart stop. The fight she had been ready to put up fizzled as soon as she heard that voice. She reached up and placed her trembling hand on the arm that held her.

"I am going to release you. Please, _vhenan_ , don't call out." His hand slid from her mouth.

Even if she had the desire to cry out, there was a lump in her throat. Forcing herself to remain composed, she slowly turned to face him. "Solas," she managed to croak.

His soft, pained expression was almost lost in the darkness of the night. The only reason she could see it was because of the distant fire despite the fact they were beyond the reach of the light. He pulled back from her. "What ravens?" he asked, voice just as laden with sorrow as the last time they had spoken.

Nimwen's eyes widened. No. He wasn't supposed to know about Mahvir. Not yet. " _Garas quenathra_?" she asked, trying to keep her voice composed.

"Are there two ravens here, _vhenan_?" he sounded almost stern and in the same moment worried. There was a note of fear clinging to each word.

"What are you doing here, Solas?" Nimwen demanded. This was a dangerous line she walked. She had to keep from revealing the truth about Mahvir, even though she wanted nothing more than for Solas to know about his child. About both his children.

"I was following a blood trail which led to fresh tracks and it led me here," Solas informed her. " _Vhenan_ , if there are two ravens here, the elf who is with them is extremely dangerous. You must tell me if they're here."

Nimwen tried to find words, but they stuck in her throat like clay. What was she to say? "I can handle myself just fine," she answered. It was a poor response, and she knew it.

Solas moved back a little. "Not from him," he stated. "He is one of them, _vhenan_. One of the _evunaris_. Don't let his frailty trick you. He holds far more power than you can imagine. He is _dangerous_."

Something snapped. "How dare you," her voice was barely a whisper. "How dare you stand there and say that, when that was exactly what you were doing since the day we met. _You_ held more power than I could have ever imagined, _you_ let me believe you were just an ordinary mage, _you_ were, are, more dangerous than bloody Corypheus.

" _You_ were one of them too, Solas, and you have the gall to stand there and warn me about him?!" Nimwen screeched. "You justify it by saying you don't agree with what they did, but did it ever occur to you, you weren't alone? That there was another who felt the same, but didn't have the strength to speak up? Did you, Solas?!

"Don't give me that shit. You're many things _vhenan_ , but I'd hoped I wouldn't have to add hypocrite among them." Nimwen huffed, feeling like she'd just ran a marathon.

Solas stared at her. His eyes wide. For a long moment, they stood apart in silence. Then, Solas backed away from her. " _Ir abelas_ , I won't presume next time."

"Wait." A pit formed in Nimwen's stomach. He couldn't leave, not now, not like this. "Please, _ma vhenan_ , don't leave. Talk to me."

Solas paused, his head bowed. For a heartbeat it looked as if he was going to turn towards her. He didn't.

Instead, he spoke in a quiet voice, "Dirthamen is the least well known of the _evanuris_ for a reason. But his ability to manipulate events to his desired outcome is unmatched. Nothing escapes his sight. It is a lesson I still seem to be learning." Solas started forward once more.

"Please, Solas, listen to me," Nimwen begged.

Tears swam in her vision as she ran forward. She let out a sob as her arms went around him. A part of her felt complete, holding him again. But she only had one hand that could feel him, and it felt armor instead of a sweater.

" _Mala vir aravas. Ara ma'desen melar,_ " she whispered, clutching to him as her cheeks grew wet. " _Irassal ma ghilas, ara ma'athlan, ma vhenan. Ma Fen'nehn._ " Yes, no matter what happened, no matter the course fate's current took her down, she would forever be bound to him. Even with her hand gone, his mark was still upon her. "Listen, Solas, I need to tell you something." He needed to know. "You have a place in this world, you could have a life. You need to know that you have a-"

Nimwen gasped, and felt the world around her grow cold.

Her arms were wrapped around empty air. Solas was gone.

"Solas? Solas?!" She spun around looking, desperate to find a trace of him.

But, he was gone, and she was alone. Just like in that glade in Crestwood. Just like in the ruins where Corypheus was slain. Just like in the elven ruins. He still didn't know. She didn't feel her knees give out as she collapsed on them.

She didn't feel the cool earth beneath her hand as it presses into the ground. She had gone numb, but for one sensation. There was an utter hollowness where her heart should have been. For her heart was gone once more. She let out a scream, a violent, primal wail that was the crescendo to all the years of turmoil she'd endured. When she felt her voice break, she dissolved into horse weeps that shook her frame.

* ~ x ~ *

The light breeze stopped. In the distance, the fire was no longer flickering. Instead it remained frozen.

Solas eased himself from Nimwen's arms. Nimwen still stood where she had been. She wasn't moving, locked in a moment in time. The world was still, devoid of movement, sound; life.

"Dirthamen!" Solas called into the darkness around him. He turned, feeling the grasses resist the movement. They moved, but no sound came from them. The world echoed with silence. His voice seemed to shatter it. "What have you done?"

"Given you the chance to leave without hurting Lady Nimwen further." Dirthamen's voice was soft. He was close by, but the darkness of night would conceal him in as dark of clothing he wore.

"Show yourself." Solas's hand moved to his staff.

"It would be rather pointless to attack when we are frozen in time." Dirthamen limped into Solas's view. He stayed a good few feet from Nimwen and even further from Solas.

Solas's eyes narrowed. The only reason he could see Dirthamen was because his sight cut through the darkness of the night and there was just enough light from the fire to outline the man. This time Solas was able to notice Dirthamen didn't just seem different, but looked it. His skin was drawn, eyes hollow with fatigue. It was clear, in this moment, he had been awake for twenty centuries.

Perhaps not all was lost yet. Solas could-

"You could take my power and my knowledge," Dirthamen confirmed. "I wouldn't stop you. But, know this, my power isn't one which is easily controlled and you would feel consent pain."

Solas narrowed his eyes. For all he knew, Dirthamen was just saying this to deter him from trying.

"If you do this then you must ask yourself, how are you any different than us? You'd be consolidating your power for the purpose of destroying the world. At least, though blinded by greed and lust for power, it was never their intention to destroy the world."

Solas scowled. "Whether or not it was intentional, all of you were killing the People, enslaving them out of entitlement. There would have been no hope at restoring any of it if I hadn't formed the Veil."

"And tearing it down, no matter your plans, will free the others." Dirthamen's voice was calm.

"All the better for you then. You can be with Falon'Din again."

"Assuming I want to be near him again."

The words caught Solas by surprise. "You and he were always together," the words were spoken in numb shock.

"A lot happened behind the scenes, unbeknownst to the People and to you. No one is all knowing and the truth of what happened back then is far darker than even you know."

"Darker than you killing your own mother?!" Solas growled.

"Mythal's fate was as unavoidable as was you creating the Veil to stop the others."

"You don't know that."

Dirthamen looked Solas in the eye. "You, of all people, should know that's not true."

For a moment, Solas was silent as he looked his nephew in the eye. In the darkness of night Dirthamen's eyes looked black as the darkness of the Abyss. "So, you aided them in killing her. I saw you there and, even if it was unavoidable, why would you help them?"

"That is for you to remember, Solas."

Annoyance flared in Solas. As far as answers went, this one was just as helpful as if Dirthamen hadn't spoken at all. "What are you doing?" Solas changed the subject to a more pressing issue. "Why are you with Nimwen?"

"To stop you from repeating the past. Fear not, Solas, I will never harm her. Once you come to your senses, both you and she will never hear from me again."

"I am to believe you would vanish and never try anything. What assurances is there you won't try to take control of this world? Enslave all of its people like you did with Elvhenan."

"If that was my intention, I've had ample time to do so and haven't. Do I look like a man who has everything? The world bending to his slightest whim. What you've seen of this world, does it point to me being its sole ruler?"

The simple answer to that was "no." Solas eyed Dirthamen, his shabby clothing could easily be a disguise, but the thinness of his body? How pale and ill he looked? No, this couldn't be faked. Even still, it didn't change who he was or what he had done. The fact remained he had stood by his father and brother and - Solas stopped and stared at Dirthamen.

What had he just warned Nimwen about? That Dirthamen was good at manipulating everything. Out of every one of the _evanuris_ , Dirthamen was the only one who Solas could never beat at any game of strategy. Dirthamen's mind coupled with his foresight made him the worst of all possible opponents to have. If one took away his foresight, he was still a genius tactician as he had proven as a child before his magic had come.

"Go," Dirthamen stated.

"Nimwen-"

"You're not ready and will only hurt her more the longer you remain."

Solas's jaw tightened.

"If you ever believed anything I told you, if you ever once liked me, then believe me when I tell you I will _never_ harm her. But you are going to hurt her all the more if you remain and leave later. You are not ready."

"For what?"

"The truth."

Solas took a step towards Dirthamen. He could overpower Dirthamen with ease. His nephew was far frailer than he had ever been before. Yet, the power he would have after twenty centuries without the long sleep. Twenty centuries of being all he had ever been, made Solas wary. There was no denying the fact Dirthamen would be far, far more powerful than even Mythal had been.

"If you hurt her in any way-" Solas let the threat hang.

Dirthamen bowed his head. "I will throw myself off a cliff and deny Fear access to my body."

That would have to do.

Solas turned to Nimwen. His heart tightened. He moved to touch her tear streaked face but stopped. Touching her might harm her. When he had moved from her embrace, he could have easily hurt her then as well.

His heart twisted. He was being denied the right to say "goodbye." Solas shot a glare towards Dirthamen. "No matter what, you will be stopped just like the others."

"I know you will hunt me to the ends of Thedas." Dirthamen bowed his head. "No matter the outcome of your attempts to destroy this world. I know you will never stop hunting me, hating me. And I will never stop running from you."

Solas backed away from Dirthamen and Nimwen. Only once he was certain they couldn't see him did he turn and head to where Melda waited for him. The breeze struck him as a sharp return to the normal time flow. Solas felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. He forced himself to keep walking even as he heard Nimwen's cry of agony rip through the night. He closed eyes.

" _Ir abelas, ma vhenan_."

* ~ x ~ *

The soft sound of a staff against the grasses came. Nimwen heard someone kneel down and felt a warm hand against her back. "Lady Nimwen." Mahvir's voice was soft.

Nimwen flung her arms around his neck. She pulled him into an embrace and cried into the tattered remains of his robe.

Mahvir placed his arm around her. He didn't speak, didn't try to console her. All he did was offer comfort in his presence.

"Did you find her?"

Nimwen looked up, eyes still teary. She saw the blurred form of Cassandra running towards them, a smaller blur that Nimwen assumed to be Vir following.

"What happened?" Cassandra demanded as she knelt before the elves.

Nimwen was silent, words had abandoned her.

"Nimwen?" The worry and fear on the Seeker's face was etched like a sculpture. "What's wrong? Is she hurt?" She asked Mahvir.

"Only in her heart, Seeker." Mahvir's voice was soft.

"But what happened?" The Seeker repeated. "We heard her screaming."

"Sometimes pain of the heart is worse than any physical wound. I suspect when she left to find Vir, she found someone else instead." Mahvir shifted a little, moving his left leg from where he had been placing weight on it.

"Cass." Nimwen's voice was still hoarse and scratched her throat. She did her best to sound reassuring. "It's all right."

"Can you make it back to camp?" Mahvir asked. "While, I know you don't get cold, the warmth of the fire might help ease the pain."

"Yes." Nimwen rose to her feet. The fire sounded nice, for once she actually felt cold. "Let's go."

Mahvir rose to his feet as well. "Let's."

 _Garas quenathra_ \- Why are you here?

 _Mala vir aravas. Ara ma'desen melar_ \- Your path journeys. But I will hold you here.

 _Irassal ma ghilas, ara ma'athlan, ma vhenan._ \- Wherever you shall go, I call you, my heart.

 _Ma Fen'nehn_ \- My wolf of joy.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

The air was crisp in the brisk hours before dawn. Mahvir sat by the smoldering remains of last night's fire. A blanket was drawn over his shoulders in a pointless attempt to keep out the chill. He shivered and tugged the blanket further around him. In the early hour, he was the only one awake. He had told Vir to get some sleep after waking in the middle of night. At first the sentinel had refused, until Mahvir pointed out Vir would be of no use to anyone if he was exhausted.

Mahvir stoked the embers with a stick. A few sparks flew up into the dark, cold air. The fire wasn't brought back to life. The coal wasn't enough to feed it and he didn't want to use the precious little fuel remaining. It would be needed when the others woke for breakfast.

Instead he kept close to the little heat the embers provided.

Soon the sky started to grow gray with the first rays of the rising sun. Mahvir pulled himself to his feet. A sharp pain lanced through his bad leg. He ignored it and set to work on getting breakfast ready for when the others woke. Cassandra had pointed to where she kept the food in the saddle bags incase he was the first to wake. So, he kept his word to her, and was the one to start making breakfast.

There was the soft padding of feet, followed by a flutter of fabric. Nimwen said nothing as she sat down. She stared at the dead fire, her blanket pulled around her shoulders. Her eyes were still lined red, and the shadows beneath spoke of a sleep empty of comfort. She held the ends of her blanket in her fist. Her other arm was devoid of its prosthetic.

"It won't always be like this," Mahvir told her as he started to place kindling onto the embers. He was careful to keep them alive and not snuff out the precious sparks for the morning fire. He then stoked the embers, easing the heat up into the new kindling. A small flame flickered to life. He placed the first new wood on the fire.

Nimwen blinked, the reaction slow. She let go of her blanket and began tracing lines in the dirt with her finger. Without her holding it, the blanket slipped from her shoulders, though she seemed not to notice.

"But it's always been this way," she responded in a voice barely above a whisper. "I follow the path, but I can never reach my destination. _Lathbora viran._ Perhaps I am not meant to reach it?" Her finger created swirling pattern in the soil. "Perhaps what I walk is not a path, but a maze? Maybe the creator forgot to make the exit?" She chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "Or maybe the crafter was cruel and never intended to finish his work? Isn't that a horrible thing to do, Mahvir?"

"You are not trapped." Mahvir placed another stick on the fire. "You still have a chance at happiness and the life you want with the man you love and your daughter. Will it be hard to achieve? Yes. But afterwards your life struggles will be far less and you will be happy." He gave her a small smile. "I wish I could tell you more, give you every detail of how to achieve that future, but living through pain once is bad enough and you don't need to see the possible pains to come." This wasn't the full truth. He could see many futures and in one there was more pain awaiting her. Yet, if all went as he planned, the trail to this future would vanish. She would have a happy life with her daughter and love.

"What do you think of me?" She looked up at him. Despite the redness and the shadows, her eyes were still sharp as winter. "What am I to you?"

Mahvir frowned and settled down to let the fire warm enough to start cooking. "You are a kind, generous woman. A loving mother figure to everyone, especially your daughter. That's what I see when I look at you," Mahvir replied. He looked at her. "You've been kind to me, Lady Nimwen, and this means a lot. It's people like you who remind me why I will continue the fight for our People."

"I want to help people." Her voice was steady as a Tranquil. "I have to. I see people and every hurt, every pain, they become knots I must untangle.

"I try to show others the kindness they should have had long ago, to prove to them that they are deserving of compassion." She ceased her drawing. "Maybe I work so hard to take care of everyone, because then they won't be able to see what I really am. But even that hasn't worked." Her gazed went down to her left arm, a stump hidden under fabric. "All of my kindness, is just made into weakness."

"The first question is what is it you think you're trying to hid from everyone?"

A hollow smile came to her lips. "A mess."

Mahvir stood and moved over to her. He settled himself beside her and drew her into an embrace. "You are an amazing person, Lady Nimwen. For someone like you, encountering Solas and I is what is causing you to be a mess. He will return to you. No matter what, I swear to you I won't rest until he is back with you and this world is safe."

" _Ar souveri_ ," Nimwen's voice trembled. " _Ar souveri_ , and it's going to effect Lori. I try so hard to never let her see me upset and I do everything to look happy for her, but I know someday I will slip up. She's going to see her miserable mother for what she really is and-" Her voice hitched. "I dream of Kirkwall sometimes. Me, Lori, Solas; you, all living in that house Varric gave me. It's a much nicer place than it used to be. Comtesse Lavellan. I would trade all my titles just for that one. It's all I want, Mahvir, is it too much to ask for?"

Mahvir was able to hide the pain from her when she mentioned him in this happy world. The rift between him and Solas would be hard to repair and would only cause her more pain. "No. I will do everything in my power so you can trade all your titles for that one and live in peace in Kirkwall." He smiled at her. "Besides, I've seen what a bad mother is, Lady Nimwen, you are not one. The side of you, you hide from your daughter isn't a bad one." He took a deep breath. "Never think less of yourself because of me," - he had to remind himself to drop the "lady" once more - "Nimwen."

"It's wasn't you," Nimwen chuckled. "I think a part of me has always hated myself." She let out a small sigh, as if what she just said was nothing. " _Ma serannas_ , for everything." She smiled at him, and it seemed real.

Mahvir wasn't fooled. "Nimwen, until you do something unspeakable you have no reason or right to hate yourself." He moved and placed his hands on her shoulders. His voice was stern. He then hesitated before he confessed, "I told Solas about Lorien."

Nimwen's eyes widened, and it was the first real emotion on her face since she sat down. "What?"

" _Ir abelas_." Mahvir released her shoulders and stood. He moved to start getting breakfast ready since the fire was now hot enough. "I know you wanted to tell him about her, but-" He stopped and took a deep breath. The truth, she didn't need more lies and he wasn't going to treat her like a child who needed protecting. "It was the time he needed to know," he confessed. "He's known about Lorien since she was born through his spies. He just never believed the child was his. Now, he will look into it to either prove me wrong or learn the truth."

"He...he knew?" As if it were possible, her eyes grew bigger. "He knew about Lori this whole time? He thinks she's-he thinks I-" Nimwen ran a hand through her hair. "He thought I'd moved on, just like that? He thought I'd had another man's child?!" A quiet giggle brew from her lips. It grew louder and louder. "How stupid is he?!"

"When it comes to family? Extremely. Consider this, he never guessed I was his son despite the fact Mythal named me 'secret' and the fact I was ignored by her. Either that or he's just incapable of thinking through all the pain he's caused he can be the cause one good matter in this world."

"You said he was going to _look into it_ ," Nimwen said. "What is he going to do?"

"Most likely, send his spies in the Inquisition to find out the truth." Mahvir looked away from Nimwen. " _Ir abelas,_ Nimwen, I know you didn't want to use Lorien, but the knowledge of her existence also presented a way for us to move forward in convincing Solas to stop this madness."

"It's fine," Nimwen sighed. "I would have rathered I be the one to let him know, but I suppose it wouldn't have mattered anyway." She turned her head toward the sleeping rolls, where Cassandra and Vir still laid. "They might be waking soon. Would you like help with breakfast?"

"Well, I've been told I have no sense in taste." Mahvir chuckled. "So, yes, help would be more than welcome."

"You remind me of my brother," Nimwen said as she stood. "Sinderon couldn't go near a hearth without burning the food. Good thing he had me," she smirked. She started to dig through their rations.

"Oh, I can cook it. The food just doesn't taste right."

"Good thing you have me then." She took out a pot and what appeared to be the makings of porridge. "Can you help with this?" she asked. "You can set it up while I go put on my hook. One-handed cooking is not fun."

Mahvir bowed his head. "I can at that." He started to set up while he kept one eye on her. The prosthetic was impressive work. "Who crafted the prosthetic? If you don't mind my asking."

"Her name is Dagna," Nimwen said as she placed the prosthetic over her stump. She started to twist it, presumably to lock it in place. "She was my arcanist back at Skyhold. Despite being a dwarf, she had expertise in magic that could rival any mage. Not to mention she was incredible at enchantments. After the Inquisition left Skyhold, she did too. She opened a shop with our old smith, Harritt. I think it's in Denerim." As she made the final adjustments to her prosthetic, Nimwen smiled at the device. "She's a good friend. I still can't believe she made this for me."

"Would it be possible for me to get into contact with her? Her work is quite impressive."

"Oh, yes, you should meet her. Her work is indeed incredible and I'm sure she would be amazed with what you can do."

"I believe a letter will suffice for now." Mahvir finished getting the small pot set up over the fire. "I will have it drafted and sealed by the time we return to the Cathedral. If you would be so kind as to send it to her, I would be most grateful."

"Of course," Nimwen nodded. She peered into the pot. "Okay, while that heats up I'm going to go into the woods for a bit. I think I remember seeing some herbs that could spice this up a little." She handed him a spoon. "Stir it and keep it from burning, all right?"

"That much, I can do." Mahvir bowed his head. His mind only half on the task she had given him. Most of his thoughts were running through interpreting his toy designs with the moving halla into a working hand.

She patted his head. "I shall make a proper cook of you yet," she said with a wink. She stood up and started for the woods.

Mahvir watched her go. He made certain to keep the food from burning while he thought through the design. He would have to wait to write the letter with a rough sketch of it for Dagna, but he could still think on it and work through some of the ideas in his head. The key thing was to keep the reason he wanted to get in contact with Dagna secret from Nimwen.

"You're already awake." Cassandra sat beside the fire, buckling the last straps of her breastplate. "Where is the Inquisitor?"

"She went to find something to flavor this with." Mahvir could already taste what those spices would do and it was a struggle to keep the disgust from his face.

"You think it is wise to let her go by herself, after what happened last night?" Cassandra asked, brow raised.

"She might hit herself a few times, but she won't kill herself, Seeker. Besides she cheered up a little before leaving and I fear she might have tried to freeze me for letting the meal burn if I had offered to go with her."

"How did you know about the hitting?" Cassandra asked.

Mahvir sighed. "You already know I was Dirthamen and am a time mage. One of the perks of my abilities is that I can see possible futures, the past, and what is happening in the present. Let's just say in a possible future, she is hitting herself. In another, she isn't. Make sense?"

"Yes, though the thought is not comforting. If you truly can see the past then you must know how far she can go. After Corypheous had been defeated, and Solas had vanished, the Inquisitor fell into a deep depression. One day, Dorian and I found her punching her leg repeatedly. By the time we got her to stop, her thigh was blue as ink. She couldn't walk for days." Cassandra poked the fire. "I don't want such a thing to happen again."

"To hit the part her arm she would have to remove the prosthetic and it would take time to do so. Right now, she is still searching for those spices. If you so wish one of us could check on her." Mahvir continued to stir the porridge.

"No, if she does do something drastic, I trust you will be speak up," said Cassandra. "Because you know what will happen otherwise."

The echo of future pain washed over him, though the pain was bearable. "Trust me, Seeker, I both know and feel what would happen otherwise."

"Good." Cassandra set her stick down. "May I ask you something?"

"You just did, but go ahead." Mahvir gave her a small smile.

Cassandra made a face at his retort, but continued. "You seem to care a great deal for her. Why? Is it because of her relationship to your… father?" Cassandra spoke the last word with a twinge uncertainty, evident she still had trouble associating the word with the man.

"What you must understand, Seeker, is I didn't grow up knowing Solas was my father. Mythal kept it from everyone, including Solas. I believed Elgar'nan, Solas's older brother, was my father. It wasn't until my abilities," - Mahvir paused, while he had confessed it to Nimwen he didn't wish to reveal the cruelty of his family to the Seeker - "awoke, I knew Elgar'nan wasn't my father, but blocked the images of who was.

"To answer your question: the reason I care for her is for who she is, not who she loves. She is the first person in a long time who cares for all people no matter their past or relation."

"That she is." Cassandra's eyes turned to the woods, as if to look for Nimwen. "I fear her mind may be slipping from her," the Seeker confessed. "She is a stronger person than I, certainly more than most in Thedas, but the years have not been kind to her. I have watched the strain wear on her everyday, and have done my best to help ease her burdens, but last night was a sign. Perhaps if Dorian were here, or Cole, or even Varric, it might be different. But she is breaking, Mahvir, if she hasn't already. For her honesty, she can be rather clever at hiding her emotions." Cassandra laid her chin on her linked fingers, a sigh escaping. "I consider Nimwen to be among my closest friends, and am worried she will get lost in herself."

"If we fail then it is very likely she will lose herself. Right now the only thing keeping her sane is Lorien." Mahvir let out a long, low breath. "I'm not helping much either. I fear her learning Solas had a child with Mythal wasn't a good morale boost."

"No, but it is better she learned sooner than later. I'm certain she would not appreciate you keeping it a secret and finding out later." Cassandra's glanced at the ground, before she did a double-take. "What's this?" Her brow furrowed. "Did you draw this?"

"No, Nimwen did."

"It looks like," Cassandra squinted. "Dogs? There's two little things next to them, what are those? Do these look like cats or squirrels to you?" she asked Mahvir.

"I believe it's a family of wolves." Mahvir went off an answer he got from a possible future. "The bigger two are Nimwen and Solas. The smallest is Lorien. And the mid sized one is me." Mahvir paused. "If I confessed something to you, would not tell Nimwen?"

"So, long as it's not a threat to her life," Cassandra replied. "But go ahead."

"I wish for her to have happiness, but for her to be the happiest she wants to keep both Solas and I in her life," Mahvir started.

"That does not surprise me," the Seeker replied. "It is obvious she still cares for Solas and that she has grown fond of you as well. Why keep this a secret?"

"She can't have both of us." Mahvir stared at the breakfast. "I can help her get Solas back and aid her stopping him destroying this world. But once he's back with her, I will have to leave. The rift between Solas and I can't be repaired without him learning I am his son and even then the chances are slim. I don't - He can never know Mythal's secret."

"You would not take the chance, even if it meant an opportunity for you and them to be happy?"

"Understand, Seeker, I've wanted to tell Solas I'm his son since the day Mythal told me. I wanted him to know she wasn't all he thought she was and that she would have killed a child to keep it secret she had slept with her lover's brother. But in every future, there is one reaction which is the same upon his learning the truth. You see, when he looks at me he sees Elgar'nan and is able to compare me to whom he thinks is my father. If he learns the truth, all the evil I've committed is no longer Elgar'nan's or my own. It becomes his as well. And to have the last member of my blood, outside of Lorien, reject me…" Mahvir closed his eyes. "I can't see his expression in the present, Cassandra. It will destroy what's left of me."

A strong hand touched his shoulder.

Mahvir shook his head. "I didn't tell you for sympathy, Seeker. I told you because no matter what, I will leave. The happiest future for her is with Solas and Lorien. As far away from his past and me as she can get."

"I cannot not pretend I know more than one who claims he can see the future," Cassandra admitted. "I will trust you to do what you feel is right, and I shall be silent. But know that you're leaving will not go unmissed. No matter how happy she is, she will still wish you'd remained."

"I know," Mahvir whispered. "It's not a decision I make lightly, but I came to terms ten centuries ago my own happiness is irrelevant as long as my people are safe. I can't tell Nimwen this, she would try to fix me." He chuckled.

"She will try and help you regardless," Cassandra pointed out.

"I'm back!" Nimwen emerged from the woods, carrying herbs in her robe skirt. "These are going to make that porridge taste amazing. You'll get some real Dalish cooking, Mahvir."

"Indulge her, while you still can," Cassandra whispered to him. "She has started running out of people close to her. Let her dote on those of us who still remain."

"I planned on it, Seeker," Mahvir whispered back. Though the doting was still more than a little strange. Mahvir stood. "I look forward to trying it, Nimwen. I do believe I managed to keep the porridge from burning."

" _Ma serannas_ ," she said, giving him a side hug with her prosthetic.

Mahvir returned the hug. "Do you need help with anything?"

Nimwen took the knife at her side and gave it to him. "Help me chop this up, then hand it to me," Nimwen told him. "I still can't believe I managed to find basil _and_ thyme out here," she smiled, looking almost giddy. "Oh, good morning, Cassandra, how long have you been up?" Nimwen asked.

"Not for too long," the Seeker replied.

"By your command." Mahvir bowed before he pulled out a small knife he used on meats the demons didn't eat.

"So what were you two up to while I was away?" Nimwen asked as she started to stir the porridge.

"Idle chat to get to know one another." Mahvir started to chop the the spices.

"Good, I'm glad you two are on better terms," Nimwen smiled. She took some of the chopped herbs and started adding it to the pot. "Lori loves this," Nimwen said as she stirred in the basil. "When I'm cooking, she's always trying to eat it."

"I'd assumed she would have stopped after the cumin incident," Cassandra said.

Nimwen snorted. "You would think so, wouldn't you?"

"She's a toddler, they tend to put just about anything in their mouths whether or not it's edible." Mahvir sat back and watched as Nimwen stirred the spices into the porridge. His expression blank though he could already taste the food he would soon be eating. Centuries of practice was all which was keeping his face even.

"Just a bit more," Nimwen murmured a she stirred in the last of the herbs. "Who knew it would be easy to stir with this thing?" She patted her hook as it held the spoon. "This thing sure does come in… handy."

Mahvir chuckled. He pulled out a few pieces of parchment and settled a little ways from the fire. He started writing the letter to Dagna. He would be sure to include a rough technical blueprint of the prosthetic he had in mind.

"Ready," Nimwen said. "Cass, go grab the bowls, and somebody go wake up Vir."

"FOOD!"

A sudden cawing cry was loud enough to make the sleeping elf jump.

The next moment, Fear landed on Nimwen's shoulder. "Food, now, little mortal!" he demanded.

"How long have you been up?" Nimwen asked the bird.

"Since before dawn." Fear fluffed out his feathers. "Hard to sleep when Dirthamen wakes screaming."

Mahvir shot a glare at the bird.

"What?" Nimwen turned to Mahvir, eyes concerned. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine." Mahvir returned to the letter.

"Not when you wake screaming 'You killed her!' just about every night." Fear shook himself. "Can we eat now?" he asked Nimwen. "If not I am going to be a very upset, cranky raven."

Nimwen looked at Mahvir. "Later," she mouthed as she started to serve everyone. "All right, Cassandra, here you go."

"Thank you," the Seeker replied, taking her bowl.

"Mahvir." Nimwen handed him a bowl.

" _Ma serannas_ , Nimwen." Mahvir took the bowl.

Fear hopped down onto his knee. Deceit landed on Mahvir's head. "You better leave me some, oaf."

"Oh, no, you are not eating Mahvir's food," Nimwen objected, wagging her finger at the birds. "You two are getting your own bowl." She poured porridge into a separate bowl and laid it on the ground beside Mahvir. "There you go."

"Our own?" Fear cocked his head to one side.

"Yes!" Deceit leapt down and dipped her head into the bowl.

"Hey! Mine!" Fear landed next to her and dunk his head in as well. Every now and again they would snap beaks at one another before returning to devouring the food.

"They thank you as well, in their own way," Mahvir told Nimwen as he watched the two ravens.

Nimwen chuckled. "I appreciate it." She turned her head. "Come on, Vir, come get it."

The sentinel grumbled and walked over to the fire looking more than half asleep. " _Ma serannas_ ," he muttered as he sat down.

Mahvir looked at the bowl. He set down the letter and took a deep breath before he took a bite. The taste clung to his tongue. He kept his expression blank as he swallowed and took another bite. He disliked food, especially having to taste it three times over.

"So how is it?" Nimwen asked him. Her eyes were hopeful.

He knew where this was going, but couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. "It's good." Mahvir smiled at her.

She burst into a grin. "I'm glad you like it," she said. "Have as much as you want, there's plenty more where it came from."

Mahvir bowed his head. He ate half the bowl before he set it down, full. He returned to the letter.

"Are you done?" Nimwen asked.

"I will take care of the bowl in a moment." He gave her another soft smile.

"All right," she responded. "It's a shame Lori isn't here, she loves porridge," Nimwen sighed. "Of course, I'm glad she's not _here_ , I'd rather keep her from corpse-filled tombs for as long as possible."

Mahvir chuckled. "I doubt a two-year old would enjoy such places. I agree, it is no place for them." Tomb? It was a temple. Still, Nimwen was correct it was no place for a child.

"Don't think I'm going to forget," Nimwen said, eyeing his bowl. "You'd better finish that before it gets cold."

"I've eaten all I can," Mahvir spoke in even tones. He was trying to dodge eating the rest of the food. He could force himself to eat it, but he didn't want to eat more than he absolutely had to. Besides, any more of the food, and he would spend the day with both a stomachache and the echo of one.

"One more bite, and then I'll leave you alone," Nimwen compromised.

"This reminds me of Lori during that little phase of hers," Cassandra said with a chuckle.

"Don't remind me," Nimwen groaned. "I thank every known deity Lori got over that picky stage, I don't think I would have taken anymore of it."

Mahvir lifted the bowl and took a deep breath. He managed another half bite, keeping his features straight only from years of deceiving people into thinking he didn't mind food. Still, the taste of each flavor was overpowering. The spices struck him first, echoing through time and followed by the sudden bland taste of the porridge. The tastes lingered. Each clung to his tongue. Disgusting. All food was just disgusting.

"We should be heading out soon," Cassandra said as she looked at the sky. "Leliana can handle herself, but I'd rather be there in case something comes up."

"You're right, and I want to get back to Lori," Nimwen added. She looked at Mahvir. "Are you done?"

"Yes." Mahvir gathered the documents before he helped them start pick up camp. He was more than thankful for the distraction and the fact Nimwen hadn't forced him to eat all of the food and called his bluff at liking it.

" _Ma serannas_ for eating," Nimwen whispered as they rolled up their bedrolls. "I know you don't think it, but it's important you eat."

"I know food is necessary to live, L-Nimwen," Mahvir caught himself from almost calling her "Lady Nimwen" again.

The two ravens had hopped over to Mahvir's bowl and snapped up the remains of the meal. Neither fought over it, for the first time they seemed happy and content rather than angried one might have eaten more than the other. It was rather strange.

"I see you two enjoyed it," Nimwen smiled at the birds.

"Fear got more than I did," Deceit complained. Her eyes half closed. She had nested down in the grasses to watch the group.

Fear snapped his beak from where he was nested. "If I did it was because you were too slow."

"Well, now, regardless you two need to share equally," Nimwen said.

Mahvir chuckled. "I don't think a motherly voice will have an effect on them, Nimwen."

"It's a reflex," Nimwen shrugged. "Even before I had Lori, I felt like I played the mother hen. I can't help it," she chuckled.

"So I'd gathered." Mahvir bowed his head to her. He finished helping Cassandra then stepped aside to let her and Vir load the horses. He stepped back so he stood beside Nimwen.

"We're ready when you are," Cassandra said to Nimwen.

"Well, don't let me hold us up." Nimwen mounted her horse. She seemed to be improving, though the act still looked like a challenge. "To Val Royeaux we go," Nimwen smirked.

Mahvir eyed his mount and sighed. His hip gave a small, but painful throb as a reminder of the wound. He moved over to the horse and mounted. Pain shot through his hip as he did so without aid. All of the pain was hidden behind a careful facade. Despite this, he knew he had reopened the wound by being a stubborn idiot and mounting the horse without asking for aid.

"Vir." Mahvir held out his hand to the sentinel.

"I will run and catch up," stated the sentinel. As with last time, he seemed unwilling to rid behind Mahvir.

"We have about a week of riding ahead of us, less if we push it," said Cassandra. "Let's get going."

"I can manage at a trot," Mahvir stated, knowing Nimwen wanted to return to Lorien as soon as possible.

"Very well," Nimwen nodded.

* * *

 _Lathbora viran_ \- Rough translation: "The path to a place of lost love" (dragon age wikia)

 _Ar souveri_ \- I feel tired


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Solas stared out across the greeny in this part of the crossroads. His eyes locked on the trees, unseeing. _"You need to know that you have a-"_ a, what? Why had Dirthamen stopped Nimwen before she could tell Solas? What was Dirthamen planning? The more Solas thought on these questions, the less any of this made sense. His memories pointed to Dirthamen being there, aiding the others in the war against Fen'Harel and, yet - Solas rubbed his eyes.

The memories pulsed through his skull, beating a headache into his mind. There was something off about them, fuzzy; _wrong_. In all of them, Dirthamen never once spoke. Then there was what Dirthamen had said in the temple: _"that is a far more interesting question and one, I fear, you must discover the answer to without my meddling."_ What had he meant by this? Then, when he had said Nimwen's daughter was Solas's…

Solas closed his eyes. He had spies looking into this piece of information though he doubted anything would turn up about it. Nimwen had moved on after he had left. Solas had no children.

There was a more pressing issue, what Dirthamen meant. Solas had seen Dirthamen there, standing over his dead mother with his brother.

Solas closed his eyes, focusing hard on this memory. Then, the image of Dirthamen being there flickered. Falon'Din had been standing close to Elger'nan, Andruil at his other side. Where Dirthamen had been standing in the background was now empty air. Solas opened his eyes. No, the memory was a trick of the mind. Dirthamen had helped kill his mother. Dirthamen was just as corrupt, power maddened, and far more deceiving than the others.

Or was he?

Another memory tickled the back of Solas's mind. One moment he hadn't thought on in many centuries:

 _Solas exited an eluvian to where he normally met Mythal. The space within the crossroads was bright and beautiful. Tress mirrored the world beyond the crossroads and lined a path down to where Mythal stood. Behind Solas was an eluvian framed by a dragon and a wolf._

 _Solas started down the steps but stopped when noticed Mythal wasn't alone. A frown pulled at Solas's lips. The elf across from Mythal wore fine robes of greens and gold. He tilted his head back, causing the gold tipping his pointed ears to catch the light._

" _You know where that insect is!" spat the elven man. His yellow eyes flashed with rage as he took a pace towards Mythal. "Tell me!"_

 _Solas moved down the steps, careful not to draw the attention of the man. His eyes narrowed then widened as he recognized one of the twins. It was Falon'Din. The moment this fell into place, Solas stopped. His gaze flickered over the large space. There was no sight of Dirthamen anywhere._

 _This made Solas wary. There were only a few times in his memory he knew the twins to be apart. The one which wrinkled him the most had been when Dirthamen bound two demons to him in order to catchup to his brother. Yet, there was no sign of Dirthamen anywhere, not even lurking near the eluvian._

 _The gold rings on Falon'Din's hand flashed as he caught hold of Mythal's shoulder. "Where is he?" Falon'Din snarled, sounding more like his father with each new word uttered. Rage leaked through his teeth and blazed as a fire in his eyes. "If I learn you're hiding him—"_

" _Dirthamen isn't here, Falon'Din," Mythal cut off her eldest child, her tone even. She locked gazes with Falon'Din. Her eyes calm. "If he wanted you to find him, you would have found him by now."_

 _Falon'Din scolwed._

 _Solas shifted._

 _Falon'Din's gaze snapped to him. His scowl twitched into a sneer as he released his mother. "If it isn't the Dread Wolf himself." Falon'Din started towards Solas. Each step clicked against the stone. More gold could be seen with each step he took, lacing his toes and ankles. "I bet the insect raced to you to cower and hide like the pathetic bug he is."_

 _Bug? Solas felt a frown pull at his lips. "I've not seen Dirthamen in many centuries, not since our last co-project at least." Which was more than true, given the last time Solas had seen his other nephew had been back when the People viewed them as honored elders and not kings let alone gods._

 _Falon'Din turned so he was able to see both Solas and Mythal. "If I learn either of you are protecting him it will be war!" his eyes flashed with raw hatred as he glared at Solas. Contempt appeared on his features as he looked at his mother. "One way or another will find the insect." Falon'Din strode passed Solas and stopped. "And mother," – the word sounded as if it was something foul on the tip of his tongue – "I will learn who it was you betrayed father with."_

 _Solas turned. His gaze locked on Falon'Din's back as he nephew stepped through the eluvian. Air seemed to crash down on Solas. That hadn't been pleasant to say the least._

" _What was that about?" Solas turned to Mythal. "What was he talking about, Mythal? And why was Falon'Din calling Dirthamen an 'insect'?" Solas moved down the rest of the steps as he asked these questions. He stopped before her, eyes locked onto hers._

 _Mythal looked at Solas. Her gaze was sad. "My thanks for arriving when you did, Solas. All I know is Dirthamen is missing and Falon'Din is trying to find him."_

 _Solas frowned. The words made his heart flutter with unease. It felt as if she was dodging the questions, as if she knew more of what was going on than she wanted to tell him._

The memory faded.

Solas placed his head in hand, staring at the ground. That meeting had been mere days before the others had killed Mythal. He remembered now, Dirthamen had gone missing. The hatred in Falon'Din's voice as he spoke of his brother. All of it, Solas remembered.

" _I am forever cast as the villain in your eyes,"_ the words Dirthamen had uttered in the temple echoed in Solas's ears. _"You must forever see me as a villain."_ Solas blinked. Those words, he couldn't remember when Dirthamen had uttered them, only it was an echo of a moment long since forgotten. _"You can never know my truth. You can never see me as anything but a shadow of Falon'Din and Elgar'nan. It's how it must be."_ The words faded.

Solas looked up. He needed the truth, to know if Nimwen's defense of Dirthamen was right or if Dirthamen was manipulating everything once more. In the end, Dirthamen would hurt Nimwen.

Solas closed his eyes. It wasn't his place to worry about this. He had to stay focused on finding a new way into the Fade. All of this was proving a distraction.

The cool feeling of stone pressed into his bare feet as Solas stood. Yet, what if he had been wrong? What if there was more to what happened back then? Then there was the girl, Nimwen's daughter. It would be cruel for Dirthamen to have used the idea of a child in such away. But, could Solas really be her father? A warmth prickled in his heart at the thought. A child?

No.

Solas shoved the notion aside. To believe something so pure, so innocent could be created by him and his heart was impossible. He had lived many centuries, been with many women, and none of them had ever ended up pregnant. He had no children. He would never be one to help create something of such pure innocents in this, or any, world.

*~ x ~*

"We can stop here," Nimwen called out. After days on the road Val Royeaux was now but a day away. Despite their closeness though, Nimwen knew everyone could use a rest, including herself. Her legs ached from being in the saddle for so long, and now even her bedroll seemed a sweet haven. She dismounted her horse, stroking the beast's side. "Cassandra, why don't you and Vir take the horses to that creek for some water? Mahvir and I can set up camp."

"That sounds good," The Seeker replied.

"Help me take the stuff?" Nimwen asked Mahvir.

Mahvir slid off his mount. His landing was almost graceful; yet, there was a slight stagger to it as he placed weight on his legs. He winced. "Too long riding," he gave her a soft smile before turning to the mounts.

Nimwen eyed him with suspicion, but it occurred to her she might have been just paranoid. After all, she was feeling the aches of the saddle too, right? Still, as she and Mahvir unloaded the horses and began to set up camp, she kept an eye on him while trying not to be too obvious.

"Want me to fetch the firewood?" she asked. The night air was crisp and filled with the sound of crickets. A slight breeze made her neck tingle. "I think I can find some in that thicket over there."

"If you so wish, one of us needs to stay with the camp after all." He shifted, leaning against his staff. "If you need help come back and we can switch."

"All right. Don't get yourself into too much trouble while I'm gone," Nimwen teased.

"Fear can go with you." Mavhir nodded to where Fear was perched on his shoulder. Deceit seemed to have followed the others.

"That's fine with me," Nimwen replied, though inside she was a little weary. She was still unsure where she stood with the bird, but was willing to take a chance.

Fear flapped over to her shoulder and settled himself there. There was a soft noise almost akin to a cawing purr which came from him. "Let's go, Mortal Soft Shoulder."

"As you wish," Nimwen said with a shake of her head. She entered the thicket and started to search for some suitable firewood. Fear sat on her shoulder, even as she bent down to pick up sticks. His talons gripped the shoulder of her coat, but not uncomfortably so. "Say, Fear," Nimwen began. "Could I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" Fear opened an eye a slit. "What?"

Nimwen bit her lip. How to go about this… "When you do that...thing with Mahvir. When you fused with him," she began. "What's it like?"

"Good sex."

Nimwen sputtered and dropped half her wood. "What?!"

Fear snapped his beak and cawed in laughter. "You are more gullible than Dirthamen." The raven continued to laugh at her.

Nimwen felt her cheeks go red. "Ha, ha, very funny." She rolled her eyes as she bent down to pick up the wood she dropped. "Are you sure your name isn't Humor?"

Fear gagged on his caw. "I am Fear!" he snapped his beak in anger, feathers fluffed. And, then he relaxed. He shook himself. "To answer the question: draining. For the time we're fused, I take on all of his physical disabilities and he is given all my power in exchange. You could say for a moment he is more demon than elvhen and in the same moment he's not. I feel all the pain he lives with. All the agony his body is in after the fire, all the difficulty breathing. Then there is the terrible weakness." Fear shuddered. "It didn't used to be that bad. It used to be shared between Deceit and I. Even when it wasn't, he didn't used to be so," Fear trialed off and cocked his head to one side.

Nimwen bowed her head. "Were you there?" she asked. "The day he and Andraste were…"

"Burned alive?" Fear asked. He gave an indigent caw. "Of course Deceit and I were there. We're bound to that fool for all eternity."

"In my clan, I grew up hearing stories about how Shartan led our people beside Andraste, and was killed for it. Hearing he was burned made us all feel sickened and saddened, but, now, actually seeing the effects...it only makes what they did more horrible."

Fear titled his head to one side. "Perhaps, but Dirthamen chose to stand beside Andraste even knowing his fate would be to fall with her. Granted most of the time with her, he tended to ignore his foresight and tell us to stay away. Not that we listened." He snapped his beak a little was if angered at the notion Mahvir had ordered _him_ to stay away. "Tell me, Soft Shoulder, what do you think of the great Shartan now you've actually met him?"

"I think the tales will never be able to do him justice," Nimwen said. "He's a good man, and I wish there were more people like him out there."

"A good man who will never stop running," Fear stated. "He's soft hearted, always has been. But his mind is sharper than any blade. He pulls strings and manipulates outcomes to being the best for all people even without them noticing. Perhaps that is a 'good' man and perhaps that is just the mark of a man just as scarred by history as the elf known as Pride is."

Nimwen hadn't thought of that. Actually, she had, but she'd been stuffing it in the back of her mind along with all the other things she'd rather not deal with. She sometimes would forget the extent of Mahvir's powers, and when she did remember, she was genuinely frightened. To be able to know the course of time, and all its nuances, no being should have such power.

"I would rather no such power belong to anyone, but if it must be bestowed upon someone, I'm glad it was given to someone like Mahvir instead of someone like Corypheus."

"Such powers are viewed as godlike to many," Fear stated. "It invokes a true fear in them. An awe so deep, most who learn of it come to view Dirthamen as either a god or a blight to be destroyed." Fear's voice seemed to drip with pleasure with each word. His eyes glittered in the night, feathers raised in excitement.

"This pleases you?" Nimwen asked, eyebrow raised.

"I am Fear after all. To invoke such a fear in mortals it actually turns to awe is a feat none of my kind have managed before. So, yes, it pleases me."

Nimwen sighed. It was easy to forget that he and Deceit were actually demons, not just talking birds. "Let's head back," she said. With firewood in hand, she trudged back out of the thicket. "Got the wood," she said to Mahvir.

Mahvir was looking at the sky and the stars spread out across it. "Good." Mahvir pulled himself to his feet with his staff. "No problems while you were out?" his voice was polite, though given his ability it was clear the question was asked only to be polite.

"Oh, yes, he was quite the helper," Nimwen replied. She set the wood down and began to erect a fire. "Anything happen while we were gone?"

"No. The others should be returning soon as well." Mahvir paused. "Would you like some help?"

"Sure," Nimwen said. Three hands were better than one after all.

Mahvir moved next to her and settled himself on the ground. His bad leg was moved out to one side and he winced a little. He started to help make the campfire. "I'm afraid you're going to have to light it. No talent for fire magic, sadly," he joked. He smiled at her as they worked.

"I just have enough to be useful for lighting fires or heating metal," Nimwen replied. "If you want true talent with fire, you go to Dorian."

"The magister?" Mahvir's eyebrows rose. "My, I think I would rather avoid the Imperium even for such talent in fire magic," he kept his tones light and joking.

"Dorian's a good person," Nimwen said. She could only imagine Mahvir's lingering feelings for the mages of Tevinter, and wouldn't blame him for them. Still, she felt Dorian shouldn't be lumped in with them. "I haven't met many Tevinters, but out of all of them, Dorian is the best." She sighed. She wondered when she'd ever see her friend again. "He gave me this." Nimwen reached into her shirt and pulled out the Messenger crystal tied to a string around her neck. "It's a communication device," she explained.

"By the looks of it, you could speak with him daily then." Mahvir looked at her with an even gaze. "I wasn't saying anything against your friend, Nimwen. I've ventured into the Imperium a few times since the war with them in order to help the People there. I just don't have a fondness for the country. I'm sure this Dorian is a good man and a loyal friend."

"He is." Nimwen looked down at the messenger crystal. "We haven't spoken in almost two weeks," she said, twisting the crystal in her hand. "Still, it's better than waiting for letters months at a time."

"True." Mahvir bowed his head. "And far better than a memory of them." Mahvir placed his hand on her shoulder. "Goodnight, Nimwen." Without another word or even waiting for the fire to be lit, Mahvir struggled back to his feet and limped to where he had placed the blanket he used in place of a bedroll. As with every night, he was sleeping far from where Nimwen and Cassandra were. Vir normally took guard and slept on the spare bedroll when he could.

Nimwen snapped her fingers, and a spark appeared in the center of the wood. After making sure the fire got started, she stood up and made her way to Mahvir. "Okay," she sighed. "How bad is it?"

"Is what?" He had settled himself on the ground once more.

Nimwen crossed her arms. "Don't think you've fooled me. I've been watching and your limping. Different from your usual limp," she added before Mahvir could use that as an explanation. "You've hurt yourself somehow and I want to know how bad it is."

"Nimwen, I am fine. And am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Mhm, and I'm the queen of Antiva." She knelt beside Mahvir. "I doubt you want me to force you to comply so I'm going to ask again, where are you hurt?"

"So, by forcing me to comply, you would, what? Strip me?" His tone was light, but there was a note of displeasure at such an event in his voice.

Nimwen snorted. "Don't put it passed me, I have a two year-old remember?" She grew serious. "Mahvir, I'm sorry I'm such a hovering hen, but I can't help it. If you're hurt I want you to be able to tell me so I can help."

There was a long moment in which he looked at her, face even. "I am fine. The riding just aggravated my bad leg a little, nothing more."

"You're _sure_?" Nimwen asked.

"Would I lie outright to you?" He blinked and looked away.

"I would hope not." Nimwen sighed. "Very well, I'll let you off. But, if I find out you were lying you're going to be in big trouble, understand?"

"Yes, _mamae_ ," amusement laced his voice as he said this.

Nimwen blinked. "Huh?"

"Forgive me. _Mamae_ means mother in the old tongue."

"Ah, I-" Nimwen paused. _'He called me mother.'_ Even though it was obviously in jest, for whatever reason it made her smile.

"We're back."

Nimwen looked up to see Cassandra and Vir leading the horses back from the creek.

"Welcome back." Mahvir bowed his head to them. "And goodnight." He pulled the blanket around him and moved so he was sleeping on the side which hadn't been injured almost a week ago, his back now to Nimwen.

Nimwen looked down at him. "Goodnight," she said, patting his shoulder. She stood up and helped Cassandra and Vir tie up the horses.

"He is asleep already?" Cassandra asked.

"He's probably tired from all this riding," Nimwen explained. "How about you, Vir, how are you?"

Vir blinked. "I can stand guard." He bowed his head and moved off to do just that.

"I can help," Nimwen offered.

"I think you should get some rest as well, you stood guard last time," Cassandra interjected.

"I know," Nimwen sighed. She warmed her hands by the fire and reached into her pack to pull out some rations. "I'm just trying to make the most of this before we're back to the masks and cobblestones. I so rarely get to see the countryside anymore."

"This has hardly been a camping trip, Inquisitor."

Nimwen snorted. "True, but it's as close to camping as I'm going to get for the foreseeable future."

They warmed up meat from a rabbit Cassandra caught the other day with some dried fruit. After their simple meal, they retired to their sleeping rolls. Nimwen gave a yawn, wishing she could enjoy the night sky for just a bit longer. However, sleep was calling her, and she gave in and nestled into her dreams.

The soft feeling of a hand shaking Nimwen was followed by an even softer voice, "Nimwen." The sound seemed to come from a great distance through the haze of sleep.

The elven woman groaned. "What?" she slurred. She opened her eyes and looked up from behind her hair at the bleary image of Mahvir.

"You have a call." Mahvir held out the message crystal to her. "And I don't believe he was too happy I answered. Forgive me for that." He bowed his head to Nimwen.

Nimwen made a noise of confusion. She took the crystal from Mahvir and held near her face. "Hello?" she mumbled.

"Your enthusiasm is contagious, my dear."

"Dorian?" Nimwen was wide awake now, She sat up and pushed the hair from her face with her hook. "Where have you been? It's felt like ages."

"I know, so sorry about that, love. Things have been a bit hectic here and when I haven't been busy keeping my fellow mages playing nice, I've been asleep at my desk. Terrible for one's sleep patterns, I assure you. Though, right now I'm more concerned about the gentleman who answered your crystal for you."

"Oh, Mahvir?"

"Ah, so that was the name, but now I need details."

While Nimwen had been speaking, Mahvir had moved to the dim light the fire had become. The soft sound of him carving Lori's birthday present soon followed. The sound was quiet enough it wouldn't wake Cassandra or Vir who Mahvir seemed to have relieved from guard duty.

"He's ah…" Even if he wasn't in front of her, Nimwen knew Dorian could tell when she was lying. "Relative."

"Relative? Is he from your clan? I don't recall you ever mentioning him before."

"He's a, new addition." Nimwen cringed, hoping she seemed believable. "And he's helping us out."

"I see."

"So, how's Tevinter?" Nimwen asked quickly, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, you know, nobles vying for power, backstabbing, magic running amok, so rather normal. The only thing that could make it better would be to see you or Lori. Speaking of which, where is my darling niece? I would love to speak to her."

"She's not here right now."

"Where is she?"

"Back in Val Royeaux."

"But I thought you were in the city too?"

Nimwen blinked. Oh right. "Funny thing about that," she chuckled nervously.

"Nimwen."

"Yes?"

"Where are you?"

"A day's ride from the city."

"And pray tell, what took you from the city in the first place?"

Nimwen sighed. "I'm returning from an expedition to the Temple of Dirthamen."

"You what?!"

Nimwen cringed and cupped the crystal in her hand to muffle the Altus' voice. She glanced back at Cassandra and Vir and saw they were still asleep. She looked over at Mahvir,

Mahvir cocked an eyebrow before he gave her a small smile. He turned back to the craving.

Nimwen uncupped her hands. "Keep your voice down," she whispered into the crystal. "There are people sleeping."

"You went to that dreadful place?" Dorian hissed, in a whisper at least. "Darling, I know you're capable but I think you're forgetting that place was full of spirits and undead and you are missing a few crucial parts."

"Not anymore, I have a new arm," Nimwen explained.

"Wait, what?"

"Dagna."

"Ahhh."

"But anyways, Dorian. I understand your worry, but I can't sit around and do nothing forever. I know there are things I can't do anymore, but there's also a lot of things I still can do, including magic. Mahvir actually helped me a lot with that. He helped me learn how to wield a staff again, and that was before I even got the prosthetic. Plus, Dagna filled this thing with so many gadgets I could be Tranquil and still be dangerous,"

"Maker forbid such a thing ever happens." Nimwen heard Dorian sigh. "Just… be careful, okay? You tend to underestimate situations and I'm not there to make the baddies go crispy, even if I want to."

"I know." Nimwen curled the crystal close to her, the closest thing to a hug she could get from him for a while. "I miss you, Dorian, and I know it must be hard for you up North alone."

"I miss you too, love. You, and Lori, and Bull, and everyone else. But don't worry about me, I chose this path and I'm going to see it through. Also, I'm not _completely_ alone. I've got Maevaris."

"That's good."

"Plus the stable master has a lovely tenor if you can convince him to show it off."

Nimwen laughed. "Take care of yourself, Dorian, and try to call more often."

"Of course, I'd never do something as cruel as deny you my sweet voice."

Nimwen snickered. "Your modesty is bleeding through the crystal."

"Always. Say Nimwen, could you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Put that Mahvir fellow on for me, would you?"

Nimwen raised a brow, but turned to Mahvir. "He wants to talk to you," she said.

A moment passed as Mahvir rewrapped the wolf. Over the past week he had added to it until one of the legs was now there and the joints moved. He pulled himself to his feet and limped over to her.

"All right." Mahvir took the the crystal from Nimwen.

"Hello, Mahvir. So glad to finally have a name to the voice," Dorian said.

" _Andaran atish'an_ , Lord Dorian. It is nice to have a voice to the person I have heard about from Nimwen," Mahvir spoke in polite, quiet tones.

Dorian chuckled. "Of course she'd speak of me. I am the most important man in her life, after all."

Nimwen rolled her eyes.

"So, she tells me you're a new addition to her family, yes?"

"New, old, somewhere in the middle, all are correct."

"I also heard you helped her get back on her feet in regards to her magic, I wanted to thank you for that. Had I been there in person I would have taken that on myself, but as you can see I am but a crystal right now."

"I imagine you would have aided her without hesitation." Mahvir looked at Nimwen as he spoke, his expression calm. He shifted his weight to his bad leg.

"Well, of course, what kind of best friend would I be if I didn't? A rather shit one if you'll forgive my language," the Tevinter chuckled. "Though, my point is, you're clearly somebody close to her who is also in a position to help. I ask that in my tragic absence you keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't get into trouble or do something stupid."

"Dorian, when have I ever done anything like that?" Nimwen interjected.

"Darling, Varric literally wrote an entire book on that subject, I'm sure you've read it by now, they've already begun selling translations in Tevene."

Nimwen opened her mouth to object, but found herself stumped.

"Vair-Vair!" a sudden shriek sounded. The next moment a raven landed on Mahvir's head. "I want to read _All this Shit is Weird_. Open it, Dirthy, now, I demand it of you!"

"Now who's that?" Dorian asked.

"It's, um…" Even if she left out the part about her being Mahvir's demon-raven, she'd still have to explain why her name was Deceit. "She's Mahvir's friend...Denise."

"Denise?" Deceit cocked her head to one side. "I like it. You must now call me Denise, Dirthy."

"No." Mahvir's voice was flat.

Deceit peaked him. "Now."

" _Fenedhis_ ," Mahvir spat the curse.

"Nimwen, what's going on?"

"Inside joke," Nimwen quickly lied. "Anyways De...nise, came here with Mahvir and she's a huge fan of Varric."

"I'm sure he'll be glad to hear not all his fans are wrinkled councilmen and Seekers in denial," Dorian chuckled. "So, what was that about her calling him 'Dirthy'? His name is Mahvir is it not?"

"It's the, uh, second part of his name. You know the Dalish sometimes have more than one name, like Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan."

"Ah, that makes sense I suppose. Well, I have a meeting soon and if I don't have the proper papers with me, somebody is going to die."

"I'll pray for you," Nimwen replied sardonically.

"I shall speak with you later. And make sure you let Lori talk to me, okay?"

"I will, goodnight, Dorian."

"And goodmorning from my end, Nimwen. Take care as well, Mahvir, Denise."

" _Dareth Shiral_ , Lord Dorian." Mahvir made to pass back the crystal to Nimwen

"Bye, Mortal crystal person!" Deceit clicked her beak. Her eyes glistened in the night. "Book, now, Dirthy!"

The light emanating from the crystal faded, and then went completely dark. Nimwen was slightly sad to see it fade, taking Dorian's voice with it, but it had been worth it to hear from her friend again and to know he was safe.

"Well, that was Dorian," she said to Mahvir as she tucked the crystal back into her shirt.

"I'm rather glad he missed Deceit calling him a mortal. Ouch!" Mahvir jumped when Deceit pecked him. At once his leg crumpled and Mahvir struck the ground. " _Deceit_ ," he growled.

"Mahvir!" At once Nimwen was hovering. "What happened, where does it hurt? Is it your hip? It's the hip isn't it?"

"Nimwen, I am fine. Just stepped wrong on my bad leg." He glared at Deceit. "You're not getting the rest of _All this Shit is Weird_ tonight, Deceit. So stop with the pecking."

"I still want to check on your stab wound," Nimwen insisted. "I've let you handle it yourself for a while, but I want to see how far it's healed. To make sure everything's all right."

Deceit grumbled. She took off and claimed her spot next to Fear on the bed roll Nimwen had originally brought along for Mahvir. All the while the demon complained about not getting to read anymore of the book. She settled down and tucked her beak under one wing.

Mahvir straightened on the ground. "It's healing fine, Nimwen. You needn't worry so much." Mahvir smiled at her.

Nimwen crossed her arms. "Mahvir, in my experience when people say they're 'fine,' they really aren't. You remembered what I said if I found out you were lying about being hurt, right?"

"That I would be in 'big' trouble," there was amusement in his voice at this. "I've pondered this 'trouble' you spoke of and find it rather amusing you view me as a child at times like this."

Nimwen's eyes widened. "I, uh." She felt her cheeks warm up. "I apologize if I've been patronizing, that hasn't been my intention." She had no idea how it had gotten to this point, especially since Mahvir was _centuries_ older than her.

A soft chuckle came from Mahvir. "It's rather refreshing to be treated in such away sometimes." He sighed and then bowed his head, long hair falling around his face in a tangled mass. He had taken the time to clean his hair but hadn't bothered with keeping it nice. "It's just odd to have someone care again, especially in the way you do."

"I'm sorry you've had to go so long," Nimwen said, gentle. "I'm hoping you won't have to go that long again, not if I can help it." She looked him up and down, then sighed. "If you refuse to let me see your wound, then at least let me do something with your hair. No offense, but it's a mess and I fear that creatures will start living in it."

Mahvir chuckled. He pulled a dagger from his belt. "I was going to cut it when we made it back to the city. I can do so now though." He twisted his hair and placed the dagger behind the the twisted mass.

"Oh, no, you don't," Nimwen protested. She grabbed his hand before he could cut. "Do you want it to be an uneven mess? Let me cut it for goodness sake."

"It's how I've always cut my hair. What's wrong with the uneven mess?"

"Consistency is not the same thing as quality," Nimwen insisted. _'Goodness, I sound like Vivienne right now,'_ she thought to herself. "Hair is an important thing and it deserves to be cut nicely."

"Hair is an important thing?" Mahvir tilted his head to one side. "Forgive the question, but if this is true then what do you think of Solas being bald?" his voice was light, teasing.

Nimwen sputtered. "W-well, it...just let me do it, mister sassy-britches."

"Sassy-britches?" Mahvir chuckled and bowed his head. "Very well, Nimwen." He stood and limped over to the fire so they could have better light.

Nimwen put the dagger aside, then reached into her bag. "Where are you?" she mumbled to herself. Her hand dug around until it brushed against something wooden. "Aha." She put the object in her pocket then picked up the dagger. Nimwen shuffled so that she sat behind Mahvir. "Alright, before we even think about cutting your hair, we need to use this." She pulled her newly acquired comb from her pocket and started the large task of detangling his hair. "Look at all these tangles," she shook her head as she gingerly combed out the knots. "And you were just going to start hacking away without fixing this?"

"Why fix it? All the hair will be gone anyway." Mahvir didn't move even as he spoke, "I will admit I've never been the best at taking care of hair. And the last time someone actually cut my hair was…" he trailed off. "Twenty centuries ago, actually."

"Well, now you have me," Nimwen smirked. She patted his shoulder with her hook. "So just relax and don't question anything. Also, let me know if I pull to hard, these things have made a rat's nest." Nimwen grimaced as she felt her comb get stuck on a tangle.

"You could comb to just below my shoulders and not worry about the rest of the hair since that's going to be cut off," he pointed out.

Nimwen tsked. "You sound just like Sinderon," she said. "He got tired of combing out all his tangles and asked me to just cut it all off. Then, he ended up regretting cutting his hair and moped for a week. I swear for a giant, he could be a baby sometimes," she chuckled. She managed to get a small section of his hair tangle free."Your hair is nice though, like his," she added.

"I can imagine, he can be. I promise I won't be moping." He paused. "I used to wear my hair this length after the end of the First War when the People started to view us as kings. I didn't have to go anywhere and it was easier to forget about it. Granted, I also didn't have brush my hair either," he joked. "Falon'Din loved the attention the People gave us. I always wondered why I was called his reflection and he my shadow." Mahvir gave a choked laugh.

The mention of Falon'Din made Nimwen tense. She still remembered the visions she saw back back in Val Royeaux, the horrid scene between the two brothers. She was unsure what to say, fearful she would prod old wounds. "I think you would like Sinderon," she said. "He's a bit quiet, and it's hard sometimes to know what he's feeling, but he's sweet, even if he would never admit it."

Mahvir was careful not to move. "It is rare I get to meet clans," he mused. His voice became sad. "I wish there was a way to repair our people and build a new home for all of them without destroying this world to do so."

Nimwen finished combing out the knots. His hair now fell straight down his back, and felt soft beneath her fingers. She picked up the dagger. "I wish that too," she said quietly. Nimwen used her hook to separate a section of his hair, and slowly started to cut away at it. "If I had been told years ago, when I still lived with my clan, that there was a chance to create a world full of magic and this world would belong to the elves, I would have been overjoyed."

With delicate precision she trimmed away at all the split hairs and dead ends. Every now and then, she would exchange dagger for comb to brush away cut hairs.

"But I was ignorant back then, ignorant of the world beyond my clan. The only humans I'd ever seen were the occasional farmer or merchant we'd pass by in our travels, and I had never spoken to any of them. When I was sent to spy on the Conclave, that had been the first time I'd even been in a building.

"My time with the Inquisition… I finally learned what the outside world was really like. I met dwarves, Qunari, humans; other elves. They became my comrades, my followers; my friends. My world grew from my clan's _aravels_ to all of Thedas, and I realized how beautiful it was."

Strands of black hair now covered the ground and in her lap.

"I love my people, and I want the elvhen to live good lives, happy lives," she said. "But this world is glorious in its own right, I will not take it away from the others just to lift up the elves, and I won't let Solas do it either. This world belongs to everyone." She set down the dagger and combed Mahvir's hair one last time. "What do you think?" she asked.

Mahvir had been silent all through her speech, remaining motionless. Now, he lifted his hand and touched his shoulder length hair. "My thanks, Nimwen." A long moment paused in which he looked up at the night sky. "Too many humans have elven blood now. Are they any less our People than those who are pure? To Solas they're no more our People than any other human. In the world he envisions, humans can never stand as equals to elvhen. While he would never enslave them, elves would still do so. Out of revenge, lust of power, and desire for greed. For those other races who also survived the world would become a living hell."

"Solas despises slavery, anything that takes away from people's freedoms, he would oppose passionately." Nimwen sighed. "Does he not realize he is making decisions for all of Thedas, taking away _their_ choice? It makes me angry how blind he is, and it also makes me sad. For I fear if his plan succeeds, he will realize the world he'll create is not what he wanted."

"No man, no matter how powerful, can control the world. Not even a group of nine could do it, though we came close to controlling the fates of all elvhen. What Solas sees, is a way to undo the final desperate act to save our People from us. A way to make the pain he caused vanish. What he can't realize on his own is in doing so he will cause far more pain than what he thinks he's undoing."

"And that is why we must make him see reason," Nimwen said. She brushed the hair from her lap. "Whatever it takes, we will save him from himself."

Mahvir turned to Nimwen. His dark gaze intense in the light of the last embers from the fire. "Not we, Nimwen, _you_. You, alone, can convince where no others can. You will forever be his heart." He smiled. "And, in many ways, the better part of his conscious."

' _Yet you couldn't get him to stay._ _ **Thrice.**_ _'_ Nimwen smiled, but she could tell it didn't reach her eyes. "I hope I'm enough." _'But you're not.'_

Mahvir gave her a soft smile and placed his hand over hers. "Never underestimate the influence a woman has over her lover."

Nimwen chuckled. "So I shall save the world with my feminine wiles?" she teased.

"Perhaps and perhaps with just your presence at seeing him at his lowest point. Either way, you will save this world. Or Solas will end up being stopped by other means, means which can never involve death."

"I don't think it will be that simple. Otherwise I could have reasoned with him when he found me in the woods." Nimwen scowled. "I can't believe I let him get away, _again_."

"The circumstances weren't right then," Mahvir told her. "No matter what you told him, it would've only driven him to other extremes. Together we can create the circumstances which will set up the situation where he listens and _hears_ you."

Nimwen raised a brow. "I don't understand, what sort of _circumstances_ do you think are needed? And how are we supposed to arrange them? This isn't exactly Wicked Grace."

"Some tacticians would disagree there. They would say the world is but a board and the people pieces to be moved upon it." Mahvir frowned. "But this isn't what I am trying to say.

"The circumstances in which he listens depends on many matters. One of them is learning through his spies he has a daughter, placing piece by piece the information into his hands so he learns something good has come from him in the centuries since Elvhenan's destruction. Others depend upon us destroying pieces he needs to make it so he can rip down the Veil. And, others still..," Mahvir trailed off. "There is a lot."

"Such as…?" Nimwen had a feeling Mahvir was hiding something.

"A show of faith on your part. One which makes it clear you are on his side even if you don't believe in what he is doing." Mahvir pulled himself to his feet. "It's late, Nimwen, and you need rest before the last leg of the journey in the morning."

"Very well," she sighed. She stood up and collected the dagger and comb. "I'm sure you'll want this back," she said. She was about to hand him the dagger when she frowned. "Hold on."

Mahvir cocked an eyebrow. "You needn't worry about my hair, Nimwen. I am fine with it as it is."

"Just hold still, it shall only take a second." Part of his hair on the right side was slightly longer than the left. She took hold of it and quickly trimmed it. "There, now you're perfect," she grinned.

Mahvir chuckled. "My thanks, Nimwen." He took the dagger from her. "May your dreams be guarded." He bowed his head to her.

"Yours as well," she replied. Nimwen picked up her comb and put it back in her bag. She shuffled back into her sleeping roll, settling in with a sigh. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I almost can't wait to be back in Val Royeaux," she chuckled.

Mahvir had turned back to the fire and pulled out the carving for Lori. He didn't speak, only set to work on the carving once more.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

Mahvir sat in a secluded part of the Grand Cathedral. Deceit was perched on his head to read the book he was holding. For the past hour he had been turning the pages of the cursed romance for the demon while he had thought on how to go about placing the first pieces for Solas to start learning he had a daughter.

The thought of Lorien made Mahvir's heart twist. Why couldn't Solas see he had a precious daughter? See his daughter had survived and would live well into adulthood. A small tendril of jealousy wormed into Mahvir's heart. If this worked, Solas would get to know his daughter. He would watch her grow up. While Mahvir had been denied the chance to even see his daughter even once before-

Mahvir closed his eyes, shutting out the thoughts.

There was more to be jealous of as well. But he was happy in the knowledge Lorien would have a father. A matter Mahvir had once dreamed of having when he had been younger. The acceptance he had striven to achieve from Elgar'nan.

"Two months," Mahvir whispered. He would make it so Lorien would have her father in her life by the end of her third birthday. Even if it would mean warping time to make traveling go faster.

Mahvir snapped the book closed.

"Hey!" Deceit let out an angry caw. "I wasn't done reading that!"

Mahvir didn't speak and instead pulled himself to his feet. Rhian was approaching with another one of Mahvir's spies.

"My lord," Rhian said quietly with a bow of her head. She had her hood down so her woolen hair was more prominent.

"Afternoon, Rhian." Mahvir bowed his head to her before he turned his gaze on the elf. "I believe you were tasked with learning who fathered Lorien?" Mahvir asked, though he already knew the answer to question.

"It wasn't too hard," Rhian replied. "She has not been seen with another man in years, and an even an idiot couldn't deny the girl strikes a certain… resemblance to a certain someone."

The elf glanced at Rhian. He shifted. "It's not that easy, Rhian. Solas doesn't believe Lori is his." He turned his dark brown eyes to Mahvir. "I was asked to find anything I could on Lori. Solas wants to know if you spoke the truth or were lying, Lord Shartan."

"To be expected." Mahvir pulled out a few documents. "These contain the first pieces of information Solas is after. Mainly Lorien's day of birth. It is but the first step to convincing him Lorien is his."

"Very well," Rhian replied. "Anything else? Perhaps we could get Emrys to draw a picture, I hear he has skill," she said jokingly, but with a hint she would actually do it.

"No, though it is a good idea." Mahvir smiled at her. "Take those to Solas," he instructed the elf.

"It will be done, Lord Shartan." The elf bowed before he took the documents and left.

Mahvir turned to Rhian. "I have a task for you as well, Rhian."

"Whatever you need," the girl said.

"Take this to the commander." Mahvir held out a letter. "It contains information which will point Solas's next movements are heading for Ferelden," he explained.

"Ferelden?" Rhian raised a brow. "What's he doing in Ferelden?"

"There are temples there as well, sources of power and pieces of knowledge he can use. We need to head there next in order to stop his next attempt." And for them to move faster so Lorien could have a father by the time or when she turned three.

"Very well, I shall see these get to the Commander right away," Rhian said. "Will there be anything else?"

"That's all for now. You have my eternal thanks, Rhian." Mahvir bowed his head to the girl.

"No, you have mine," Rhian insisted. "I was just a Darktown urchin before you. I owe you everything, Lord Shartan."

"All our People deserve a chance at life," Mahvir stated. "You are no different, never place what you've accomplished on another. You were the one able to pull yourself up and make a life for yourself. All I did was give you a hand."

A small smile came to Rhian's lips. "You know, before you the only person who ever considered me one of the People was my mum, and even then I didn't always believe her." Rhian bowed. "I shall get going as soon as possible. _Dareth shiral_."

" _Dareth shiral, da'len_."

Rhian turned on her heel and strode off down the hall, no doubt heading towards Commander Cullen's office.

Mahvir watched her go. His heart between light and twisted. He could see another half blood, grown walking where Rhian was. Her ginger hair straight and eyes bright. But never would this image be a reality, never would she have grown to the age Rhian had or be as strong. Yet, Rhian was just as much a daughter to him as any other elvhen. For as long as he had breath in him, he would help her to live out whatever dreams she had.

"Are you going to open that book or not?" Deceit demanded.

"I'm not, you've had enough for one day."

Deceit snapped her beak. "As far as you're concerned," she huffed.

Mahvir ignored the demon and started to walk. He noticed a woman heading down a flight of steps and paused. It was odd to see a pregnant woman in the Cathedral and in the same moment he knew who she was.

"Would you like some aid, my lady?" he asked.

The woman turned around. "'scuse me?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Would you like some aid down the stairs, my lady?" Mahvir repeated and specified. He gave her a small smile. "Though, I am quite uncertain how much of an aid I would be."

The woman chuckled. "Yeah, no offense, but my fat ass would probably crush you," she smirked. "Though, I could use a little help. I think I might finally be becoming too fat to function, though my husband would say that passed three months ago."

Mahvir chuckled at this. "I'm certain he was very wrong on that account, my lady." Mahvir limped down the steps to her side and held out his free hand to her.

Deceit shuffled on his head.

"Thanks," she said, taking his hand. Her own was rather large for a woman and practically swallowed his. "So what's your name?" she asked as they climbed down the stairs.

They're pace was slow enough and given it was going down and not up, Mahvir didn't feel as bad of a tightness in his chest. "An interesting question and one's which answer would change depending on who you asked. You, my lady, may call me Mahvir."

"Nice to meet you, Mahv," the woman replied. "As for me I got a few names too. Sometimes I'm Captain, sometimes I'm bitch, soon I'll be mom, but you can just call me Franne," she said.

"It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lady Franne." Mahvir released her hand when they reached the bottom of the stairs. "I'm certain your," he had to force himself to not reveal the future, "child will be lucky to have you for his or her mother."

"You're too kind." Franne looked him up and down, her green eyes squinting. "Have we met before? You look kinda familiar."

"No, we have not. But I have been getting such statements a lot as of late. I believe the reason being is a relative of mine served the Inquisition nearly three years ago."

"Really, who? I was Guard-Captain of Skyhold until we had to relocate, so I know pretty much everyone who mattered."

Mahvir hesitated. "I doubt you would have spoken with him, however, from my understanding of it, he was part of the inner group of the Inquisition."

"Now, I _really_ wanna know. Me and Frost-Tits are close and I would know about any of the people in the Circle. Inner Circle that is, not that magey one."

"I understand." He paused, wondering if he should tell her. It was hard to see this woman's reactions through the time flow. Every word uttered changed her response faster than he could track. "He left before the celebration, the night of Corypheus's defeat."

"Brother!"

Mahvir turned his head.

Deceit cawed in frustration and leapt over to his staff.

"What the-?" Franne looked down.

Climbing up the stairs, on all fours, was Lori. "Brother!" she grinned. She sat on the step just below Mahvir and hugged his ankles. "I got you," she giggled.

" _Aneth ara_ , Lorien. Were you not spending this fine afternoon with Nimwen?" Mahvir placed his hand on the girl's head.

"Mama fell sleep. I got bored, so I go," Lori explained.

"Hold on, hold on, why did she call you 'brother'?" Franne asked.

"Aunt Franne!" Lori smiled. "He big brother! He new but mama say we keep him," she said. She nuzzled her cheek on his ankles. "Imma wolf," she giggled.

"And what a grand wolf you make." Mahvir assured her. He glanced a Franne, rather amused by Lorien's enacting of a wolf.

The ginger-haired woman looked between the two elves, looking confused. "Who the hell are you?"

"A rather complex, and long explanation, Lady Franne." Mahvir turned his gaze on Lorien. "As for you, dear Lorien, I believe your _mamae_ would be in a state of fear and desperation if she woke to find you missing."

" _Mamae_?" Lori asked, her head tilted.

"It means 'mama' in our People's tongue," Mahvir explained with a soft smile. He loved the small moments like this with his sister. The few moments he would have with her.

"So hold on," Franne said. "Did Nimwen have a surprise adoption while I was gone or did she somehow have a grown ass kid incognito?"

At this Mahvir burst out laughing. "Maker, no!" he managed to say through his laughter.

Franne shook her head. "I'm gonna have to talk with her later."

"Brother, up?" Lori asked, reaching her arms upward.

"Deceit, would find where Fear got off too?" Mahvir asked the white raven.

Deceit clicked her beak in annoyance before she took off.

With her gone, Mahvir was able to set his staff against the stairs. "Would you like to ride on my shoulders, Lorien?" Mahvir knelt before her.

"Yay, yay!" Lori clapped her hands in excitement.

Careful of his sister, Mahvir lifted her off the ground and placed her on his shoulders with a small grunt. Very soon she would be too heavy for him to lift. He picked up his staff and used it to help him stand. His other hand on Lorien's leg to keep her on his shoulders.

Lori giggled and patted the top of his head with her palms. "You tall," she said.

Mahvir turned to Franne. "If you would like to speak with Nimwen, I am heading in that direction. Though, now I most certainly won't be of aid for you heading down the stairs." With Lorien on his shoulders it would be hard enough for him to make it down towards Nimwen's and Lorien's chambers.

"That's fine, I'm used to wearing full armor heavier than this guy," she replied, patting her stomach. "Plus I'm fixin' to get some answers."

Mahvir smiled at her. A part of him really liked this woman and the way the she was so unpredictable. Another was wary of her for this very same reason. "Hold on, Lorien."

"Giddy up!" the toddler cried.

"If I were a horse, I would have been a poor one indeed." Mahvir started down the stairs. His pace slow so as not to trip or dislodge Lorien. The girl was a little heavier than Fear and Deceit combined, but unlike the demons she couldn't recover if she fell. He was distinctly aware of this fact and thus made certain he was taking one step at a time, lowering his bad leg and staff first before moving his good leg down and repeating.

His chest was tight by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs. Each breath was a little labored but not to the point he needed the herb to ease it back.

"All right, sweetie, where's your mama?" Franne asked.

"She sleep on couch," Lori said.

Mahvir could feel her little hands playing with his hair. "Lead on, Lady Franne. I believe you know this place far better than I."

"All right, come along you two," the human said. She led them down the halls, at a fairly decent pace given her condition.

Lori hummed cheerfully to herself as she twisted Mahvir's hair in her little fingers. "Bade, bade," she said sing-songly.

Mahvir knew she was braiding his hair. But all of his focus was in trying to keep a decent pace and not letting Lorien fall from his shoulders. His injured hip twinged and bad leg pulsed with pain at being forced to a near normal pace. Each step made talons close all the tighter around his lungs. His breathing turned ragged.

"You all right there, Mahv?" Franne asked, looking back at him with concern.

"Just need to pause," he managed a weak smile. He stopped walking and focused on evening his breathing by taking deep breaths in and out through his nose.

"Mahvy?" Lori asked. She poked his cheek.

" _Ir abelas,_ Lorien." He nodded to Franne. "We may continue." It wasn't much further as it was.

They made it to the entrance to Nimwen's quarters. Franne pounded on the door. "Hey, Frost-Tits, I found your kid," the redhead called out. There was only silence on the other side. "Okay, I'm breaking in," the human said as she opened the door.

"She's most likely still sleeping, Lady Franne."

"Drop the 'lady' part, will ya?" Franne asked. She stepped inside the room and gestured for Mahvir to follow.

"It might be wiser if you alone wake her," Mahvir hesitated, "Captain."

Franne rolled her eyes. "Titles, titles, titles, was is it with this place and titles?" She sighed. "Can't wait 'til me and Noodle go to Denerim." She started to go in, but when she saw Mahvir still standing there she sighed. "Really?" She grabbed his wrist. "Come on, Mahv."

Mahvir couldn't fight the woman's strong grip. He only just managed to keep Lorien and himself from falling at the speed with which he was dragged him into the room. "It isn't proper to enter a lady's room unannounced or without permission, Captain."

"Pfft proper, shmoper," Franne chuckled. " _I'm_ giving you permission, so there you go."

"I got persimmon?" Lori asked.

"That's a fruit, Lori," Franne said.

"Lorien, it's your _mamae's_ room. I doubt you need permission. And, to clarify, Captain, it is improper to enter a lady's room without said lady's permission."

"Whatever."

They entered the living room. The floor was covered in toys and a blanket that was spread out. On the couch was Nimwen, sprawled out with a pillow over her eyes.

Franne chuckled. "Ain't she graceful?" she whispered to Mahvir.

Mahvir covered his eyes and turned away. "Yes, yes, wake her, please."

"Maker's breath, calm your tits," she said. She crept up to the couch, weaving between the toys littering the floor. She gently shook Nimwen's shoulder. "Wake up, Nimmy," Franne whispered.

The elvhen woman grumbled, but didn't wake up.

"Hey, get up." Franne lightly patted her face.

Mahvir could see all of this through his other sight. Rather annoying, but still the truth. "Would you like down, Lorien?" he asked. He really wished he hadn't been dragged in here without Nimwen being awake. It wasn't right of him.

"I like bein' tall," Lori said.

Franne sighed and shook Nimwen harder. "Seriously, Nim, wake up-"

There was a loud _smack_ followed by Franne crying out.

"What the?!" Nimwen flew to a sitting position, her eyes wide.

Mahvir placed his hands over Lorien's ears.

"What the hell, Nimwen?!" Franne yelled, clutching her nose where Nimwen punched her.

"What's going on-?" Nimwen looked up and she gasped, realizing what had happened. "Oh, my, Franne, I am so sorry."

"Andraste's tits, where'd you learn to punch like that?" Franne groaned.

Nimwen looked over at Mahvir, and cocked her head. "Mahvir?"

"Afternoon," he stated without turning or removing his hands from Lorien's ears. "Are you done cursing, Captain?"

Nimwen snorted. "I doubt that day will ever come," she said as she stood.

Franne shrugged. "Sorry, can't help it."

A small breath escaped Mahvir. He removed his hands from Lorien's ears. He could always recover them when next the Captain decided to curse. "We found Lorien outside and thought it best to return her."

"And what were you doing wandering off?" Nimwen asked Lori.

"You sleep, I got bored," Lori mumbled. She poked both of Mahvir's cheeks with her fingers. "I find brother and Aunt Franne."

"Oh, yeah, 'bout that," Franne cut in. "What's this about Lori getting a brother?"

Nimwen blinked. She looked between Franne and Mahvir. "Um… do you mind me telling?" she asked Mahvir.

"She will find out one way or another," he stated. Though, he didn't know the captain well, he did know she would be traveling with them. It was better if Nimwen told her now than her finding out of the blue Mahvir's relation to Solas.

"All right, well then," Nimwen chuckled sheepishly. "I guess I'll cut to the chase. Franne," - she turned to the human - "this is Mahvir, he's-he's Solas's son. Which makes me his, well, stepmother I suppose. And Lori's half-brother."

Franne's eyes were wide as dinner plates. "You...serious?" she asked quietly.

Nimwen nodded.

The ginger turned to Mahvir. "Cover her ears."

Mahvir had already done so. He had also turned to them. "If it's any consolation I am a child from very long ago in Solas's past."

"Yeah well...holy shit." Franne turned to Nimwen. "Solas had a _kid_?"

"Has a kid," Nimwen corrected.

"This is...wow," Franne laughed. "So you have a stepson? That's crazy, and he looks like he's as old as you!"

"Considering the fact Solas is an ancient elvhen, surely it isn't too large a leap for me to be older." Mahvir chose his words with care. He also never once called Solas "father." It wasn't as if he hated Solas or anything along those lines. For most of his life, he had thought Solas his uncle and then everything had gotten confusing for him. In the end, it had just been easier to called Solas by name. Oh, and there was the fact Solas had hated Mahvir for over twenty centuries now. "Besides, Solas has no knowledge of my existence as his son. A matter Solas is best left ignorant about."

"Huh." Franne sat down on the couch. "That's...a lot to take in." Franne looked up at Nimwen. "Nim, I hate to say it, but you have the most complicated life in Thedas."

"Don't I know it," Nimwen sighed.

"Perhaps complicated is an understatement," Mahvir stated. He removed his hand from Lorien's ears. "Do you wish to play with your toys, Lorien? Or remain being tall?"

"Down," Lori said, patting his head.

"Down, what?" Nimwen asked.

"Down, please?" Lori asked again.

"As you wish, Princess Lorien." Mahvir knelt down and lifted the girl from his shoulders. He set her down. "Have fun and no running off this time." He placed his hand on her head.

Lori toddled over to the couch and picked up a stuffed nug toy lying on the floor.

"So, what else can I do for you two?" Nimwen asked them.

"I came to return Lorien to you," Mahvir stated. " _Ir abelas_ for entering while you were sleeping." He bowed his head to her. It was just too awkward.

"Oh, it's nothing," Nimwen assured him. "It's not like I was in my small clothes."

"Boy, that would have been awkward," Franne snickered.

"What are you still doing here, anyway?" Nimwen asked the human. "I thought you and Cullen were going to Denerim."

"We are, just not yet," Franne explained.

"I hope your journey is safe," Mahvir stated and looked at Lorien.

"This Gary," Lori said, holding up her toy nug.

"A pleasure to meet you, Gary." Mahvir bowed to the nug. He settled himself on the floor.

Lori stood up and nuzzled the nug onto his shoulder. "He give you hug."

Mahvir returned the nug's hug with a short one.

Nimwen smiled. "You make a good brother."

"He best brother," Lori grinned.

"Years of practice," Mahvir said with a smile at Nimwen. He shuddered on the inside at the thought of his brother and other siblings, and Lorien's cousins. A part of him, the part he wished didn't exist, longed to see his brother again. "Did you name all of your toys?" He changed the subject as he looked back at Lorien.

"Uh-huh," Lori nodded. "They my friends, so they all gets names."

"Careful, or she might just introduce you to them all," Nimwen warned Mahvir.

"I have nothing planned for today," Mahvir stated. "Unless you count Deceit being upset I stopped reading that terrible book."

"Who's Deceit?" Franne asked.

"One of Mahvir's ravens. He has two," Nimwen explained.

Franne furrowed her brow. "You were reading to your bird?"

"In a manner of speaking. You saw her earlier. She was the white raven on my head when I first met you." Mahvir looked at Franne.

"Ah, and why were you reading her a book you think is terrible?"

"She likes romances, I don't. It's as simple as that." Most romances were a lie. There were few happy endings in the world and even fewer relationships which didn't have problems.

"I don't really like them either. Cullen does though, not that he'd ever admit it," she chuckled with a wink.

Mahvir smiled. "Those with such happy endings are lucky. But I also don't care to read about every detail of another's relationship. My relationships just within the family are complicated and depressing enough without reading another's, happier life."

"Well aren't you a bundle of rainbows," Franne said.

"Ah, but if you want someone who is a bundle of rainbows and joy, it only comes from babies and toddlers. In the pure innocence which is youth." He bowed his head to her. "Though you will learn of this soon enough."

Franne turned to Nimwen. "Keep him," she told the elf.

Nimwen chuckled. "Don't worry, I will."

It took a lot of effort on his part not to shift. No matter what future Nimwen thought of, reality would tear it down. Even if there was a way for Mahvir to stay, it would end up with months to years of constant arguments between him and Solas. The two of them could never see eye to eye on certain matters. Mythal being one of them, half bloods being another.

Instead of speaking, Mahvir gave her a small smile.

"Well, I think I need to be going," Franne said. She pulled herself up from the couch. "Cul will be wondering where I am and we need to finish packing."

"I hope you have fun meeting his family," Nimwen told her.

"Hey, it'll be nice to be in a place where the people aren't all masked and plummed up. I swear I have no idea how he convinced me to move here," Franne sighed. She shuffled passed Mahvir. "Nice meeting you, Mahv," she said.

"And you, Captain Franne," Mahvir replied.

Just then they heard a knock on the door. "Pardon me, Inquisitor?"

"Speak of the Noodle," Franne smirked. She opened the door to reveal the blond commander. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Franne? There you are, love," Cullen smiled. He looked up at Nimwen and then grew more serious. "Sorry for the interruption, but I just got some news I felt should be brought to your attention."  
"What is it?" asked Nimwen.

"We've received reports on possible leads of Solas's movements."

"Really, where?" Nimwen demanded.

"Ferelden, possibly Denerim."

"I suppose this means a small group will heading there next, will it not?" asked Mahvir as he turned his gaze to Nimwen. All his emotions were hidden behind a careful facade. "Speaking of Denerim, if I am among those to go, I would like to meet this Dagna. I sent her the letter, but am still interested in her work."

"Oh, of course, I would love to introduce you two," Nimwen said enthusiastically.

"You're going to unleash the dwarf on him? You poor thing, Mahv," Franne teased.

"I believe she and I will get along splendidly." Mahvir removed the toys Lorien had placed in his lap.

"And this is Hannah," Lori said, putting the redheaded ragdoll in Mahvir's lap. "She and Betty twins," she explained, despite the fact that the doll named Betty was blue with white hair.

"They make for a nice family," Mahvir told Lorien.

"I'll take a look at these reports," Nimwen said. "Mahvir, do you mind watching her for a bit?"

"I would love to," Mahvir assured Nimwen. He looked at Lorien. "Would you like to play a game?" He gave her a soft smile.

"Yeah!" the child grinned.

"I am at your command, Princess Lorien." Mahvir bowed at the waist to her. "What shall we play?"

"Hmm," Lori put her finger to her mouth as she thought about it. "We go get dragon!" she declared.

"I am afraid I won't be much of a dragon hunter, my princess. But I will try my utmost to make this room appear your stage for hunting such a majestic beast."

Lori giggled. "We gonna, we gonna get the...blueberry dragon!" She spread her fingers like claws and bared her teeth.

"Oh, no." Mahvir feigned fear and hid his face from her.

"Stay strong, Mahvir, the blueberry dragon can sense fear," Nimwen chuckled. "I'll see you later, _da'len_ , you be good for Mahvir, okay?"

"Bye-bye _mamae_ ," Lori waved.

"She will be fine, Nimwen," Mahvir assured.

*~ x ~*

"And we can confirm these sources?" Nimwen asked.

"It all seems to be in order," Cullen replied. "It appears that his people have been moving East since the temple, and there are already signs of them entering Ferelden."

Nimwen stared down at the papers in her hand. _'Could it be?'_ she wondered. _'Might I find him again?'_ As excited as that made her feel, she couldn't forget what Mahvir had told her, about the proper circumstances. There was still much she had a feeling Mahvir was keeping from her, but she trusted his judgment.

"How long until we can go to Denerim?"

"Are you sure you want to go?"

Nimwen looked up at the blond. "What do you mean?"

"I know about your excursion to the temple but, don't you think it might be best to let others handle this in your stead?" Cullen asked. "You said it yourself at the Exalted Council that your adventuring days were over; yet, you don't allow yourself any reprieve. You don't have to lead the vanguard anymore, you've done so much for Thedas already."

Nimwen smiled. "I appreciate your concern Cullen, and I value your input, but my work is far from done even if I'm no longer the actual Inquisitor. I want to see this through, I _have_ to see this through, and once it's done I'll ride off into the sunset, but only once I've reached the epilogue to this little story."

"Don't try and stop her, Cullen," said Franne. "She a woman on a mission."

"I wasn't trying to," Cullen retorted. "I just...wanted to make sure this is what you wanted. As I said before, Thedas is in your debt ten times over. I wanted you to know that nobody would blame you for handing the reins to somebody else."

"I appreciate the thought, Cullen, but this is my mission. I won't go down this path alone, but I am going to lead it."

The soft sound of wings signaled the arrival of another. The next moment there was a weight on Nimwen's shoulder. "Hello, Mortal Soft Shoulder. Care to hide me from Deceit? I've been avoiding that annoying ball of feathers since Mahvir sent her looking for me."

"Did that bird just…?" Franne pointed at Fear in shock.

"Talk?" Cullen ended.

"Ah, yes, well…" Nimwen chuckled nervously. "Um…"

Fear clicked his beak in annoyance. "Do we have to go through this with every mortal? I am a Fear demon which took the form of a raven sixty centuries ago and was bound to Mahvir's will. So, yes, I speak."

"Mahv has a demon bound to him?" asked Franne.

"Well, two if you count Deceit," Nimwen clarified.

"And you think it wise to have two _demons_ lurking about, near Lori?" Franne questioned.

Fear let a few caws of laughter. "We are forever bound to Mahvir. He speaks and we must obey. The child is off limits to harm as is Nimwen and those mortals close to her. For our service to him we are granted eternal life, for, unless he kills himself or another does, he will last for all eternity. It seems a fair enough trade, no?"

"I...suppose."

Nimwen could see that Cullen still looked very uncomfortable. "Cullen, I assure you, if I did not trust Mahvir to keep them in line, I would not leave them to their own devices. They obey Mahvir, and he has no intention of causing me or Lori any harm."

Cullen sighed. "Very well, your Worship."

"The worst we want to do is trick the child to give us food," stated Fear. He settled further into Nimwen's shoulder, eyes lidded. "Next time Deceit says ravens are a good idea to trick an elf who wanders our way I am ignoring her."

Nimwen laughed. "Yes, that seems wise," she jested.

"It's like a parrot, but blacker, and eviler," Franne commented as she continued to look at Fear in disbelief.

"Parrot? Parrot!" Fear flapped his wings, screeching his rage until it rang in Nimwen's ears. "I am no mere bird. I am not a stupid, tropical, witless thing better used as feed for stronger animals. I am Fear!"

"Fear that's enough!" Nimwen scolded the creature. "Calm down or you won't get any cake," she warned him.

Fear snapped his beak closed and settled back on Nimwen's shoulder. His eyes wide with the horror.

"That's right, now apologize to Franne."

"Cake!" Another caw screeched. "Cake! Cake! Cake!" The next moment a weight landed on Nimwen's head. "Where's the cake? I want cake."

"And now there's two," Cullen sighed.

"There is no cake," Nimwen said. "At least there won't be until Fear apologizes to Franne for being rude."

"Apologize, oaf, or I will claw you featherless!" Deceit snapped her beak at Fear.

Fear let out a soft caw which reminded Nimwen of a snort. "You're more likely to run cawing to Mahvir."

"Ugh," Nimwen groaned. She wondered how Mahvir could have tolerated this for centuries.

"Relax, Nimwen," Franne told her. "There's no need to get your...feathers ruffled."

Fear let out a caw of laughter. "I like you, Pregnant Mortal."

"Humph, you like most mortals." Deceit settled on Nimwen's head. The next moment, two bright eyes were before Nimwen as the white raven peered down at her. "That's an apology. Cake now!"

"All right, all right, you can get your cake," Nimwen said with a shake of her head. "Will you be needing anything else, Commander?"

"N-no, I don't think so," Cullen said, looking quite perplexed at the scene before him.

"Maybe we'll get some cake for Lori and Mahvir as well," Nimwen mused as she left the room.

"Yes, bring Mahvy cake too," Deceit stated.

"You just want her to do so you can eat it," Fear snapped at her.

"Do not!" Deceit snapped her beak in annoyance.

"You both can handle one big piece of cake," she told them. "Any more and I doubt you'd be able to fly."

"We don't need to fly. Mahvy can carry us." There was a note of pride in Deceit's voice. "You're taking a slice to Mahvy then, right?"

"Don't listen to her. Mahvir hates sweets," Fear whispered in Nimwen's ear. "She just wants more for herself."

"Hmm, maybe I'll bring him some dumplings then," Nimwen decided.

There was a small sound from Deceit which sounded like disappointment.

"He loves red wines as well," Fear informed Nimwen. "Why he does, is beyond me. It has nothing to do with distain for foods, but it is what he asked for the most in past. And finished."

"I'm sure I can find some for him. This is Orlais after all." Nimwen made her way down to the kitchens. "If you two promise you won't try and eat anything until we get back to my quarters, I'll let you have as big a piece as you want."

"Promise." Fear gave her a slight nuzzle with his beak.

"No food until we're back. But-but that's torment!"

"Just think of it this way, the wait will make the cake even more worth it."

Deceit made small nose. "Fine, I will be tormented."

"It'll be all worth it in the end, Denise," Nimwen teased.

Deceit settled on Nimwen's head. "You're not so bad for a mortal. I was wrong about you," the words seemed to pulled from the demon.

"She is a soft shoulder, after all. Wake me when we get to your rooms." He tucked his beak under his wing.

Nimwen smiled. She finally won the favor of the demonic birds. As she walked down the hallway, she felt quite pleased with herself.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

"I come bearing gifts!" Nimwen said as she entered the room. Her hand and hook were busy holding the tray of food, so she had to open the door with her foot. "Mahvir, Lori, you two still in here?" she asked as she and the two ravens walked into the living room.

Her eyes scanned the room, until they locked onto something in the corner.

"What the?"

The entire corner of the room was taken up by a rather impressive pillow fort. Four dining chairs acted as support with Nimwen's own bedroom comforter acting as the roof. A mass of pillows made up the walls like a chasind hut. There were toys and dolls standing along the walls, like guards of a castle.

"Anybody home?" Nimwen asked, amused. She could hear muffled giggles within the fort. "Such an impressive fort, who commands this keep I wonder?"

"The princess always commands the castle," came Mahvir's voice.

"That me!" Lori's voice followed.

Nimwen chuckled, and shook her head. "Well, I bring an offering for the princess. Cake from the land of kitchen."

"Ooh, cake!" Lori gasped.

There was the sound of shuffling, and then the door flap, made from the throw blanket, flipped open as Lori crawled out.

"Cake, cake, cake!" the little girl squealed as she danced over to her mother.

"Yes, cake. I also brought something for you, Mahvir," Nimwen said. "I know you aren't fond of sweets, so I brought you some dumplings. Also, I heard red wine was your favorite, so I brought some of it too."

Mahvir pulled himself out of the fort and used one of the chairs to pull himself up. "My thanks, Nimwen. I take it Fear told you this to keep Deceit from getting more cake than him."

The two ravens had set down the basket with the dumplings and bottle of wine on the table. They were now staring at Nimwen with intent eyes.

Nimwen chuckled. "True, but I'm glad he did, so now I know what to get you," she said as she set the food on the table. "I'd hate for you not to be able to eat with us."

"Those dummings?" Lori asked as she peered over the edge of the table.

"Yes, but those are for your brother, ask him if you want one," Nimwen said.

"You're welcome to one, Lorien." Mahvir moved to Nimwen's side. "Apologies for the mess," he whispered so Lori couldn't hear. "I will aid you in picking it up."

"It's fine," Nimwen assured him. "And thanks, I knew she was going to make one eventually, but I have to say this is probably the best fort yet."

Mahvir lifted out the bottle of wine and then glasses. Mahvir's voice was normal tone once more. "Only the best castle for the little princess." He bowed his head to Lori before he poured the wine into the glasses. He held one up for Nimwen.

"Cake!" Deceit demanded. "We helped carry the food here and didn't eat it. Where's my slice?"

"Be patient, Deceit." Mahvir turned his gaze on the ravens.

"I swear they are like children," Nimwen smirked.

"I princess," Lori grinned.

"Yes, _da'len_ , you are a princess," Nimwen said.

"And Mahvy prince!" Lori declared.

"I would prefer to be the princess's advisor over a prince." Mahvir raised his glass in a toast to Lori.

"You that too," Lori said as Nimwen lifted her into her chair.

"A duel title, quite the honor," Nimwen smirked.

" _Mamae_ queen," Lori told Mahvir.

"I see. She would make a wonderful queen." Mahvir settled himself into one of the chairs at the table. He looked exhausted and in the same moment happy.

"Oh, I doubt that," Nimwen said, taking a sip of her wine. "I barely survived being an Inquisitor. I think I'm done with titles for now."

"But I still princess, right?" Lori asked.

"Yes, _da'len_ , you're always princess."

"Yay!" With that, Lori began to rip into her cake with her bare hands.

Nimwen tsked. "I brought you a fork for a reason."

The ravens had settled aways from them to eat their large slices.

"Princess's always eat with their fork, Princess Lorien." Mahvir held out the fork to Lori. "Show me how one is supposed to eat, will you?" He gave the little girl a charming smile. His voice patient and almost soothing.

Lori stopped her carnage, chocolate smeared all over her face. She took the fork in her chocolate-covered hand and stabbed it into what remained of her cake. She pulled away a piece far too large for her to eat, so she bit off a smaller piece straight from the fork instead. "Like that?" she asked.

"My thanks for showing me, Princess." Mahvir picked up his fork and cut part of a dumpling to eat.

Lori smiled, showing frosting stained teeth.

"You're going to brush your teeth after this," Nimwen reminded her, cutting a much more proportioned piece of her own cake.

"Awww," Lori complained.

"You want to look pretty for everyone, right, my princess Lorien?" Mahvir asked. He had eaten more of the dumplings than most other food Nimwen had seen him eat. Each bite he cut so it was small.

"You like them?" Nimwen asked.

"They're good," Mahvir stated. It was always hard to tell if he was being truthful or not when it came down food.

"Good, then I expect you to eat them all." She'd been rather lenient as of late regarding him and food, but now she was going to put her foot down and ensure he was eating as much as he needed to.

Mahvir bowed his head. Then looked at the dumplings.

"You're not getting out of this," Nimwen said, firmly but gently. "You really do need to eat more. Perhaps you'll have more energy if you're not starving all the time."

"Perhaps," he stated. Then took a deep breath and continued to eat the dumplings.

"Good," Nimwen nodded as she ate her cake. "Not to mention you're going to need all the energy you can get if you're going to keep up with this one," Nimwen added, pointing to Lori.

"Birdie like cake?" Lori asked the two ravens.

Fear looked up. He's beak and feathers covered in chocolate. "Cake is wonderful," he stated and bent to nip up the scraps.

"You get it all over your feathers, oaf," Deceit snapped her beak and started to clean her own feathers.

" _Mamae,_ they talk," Lori told her mother. The girl did not seem surprised or in shock, but simply informed Nimwen of this new discovery like she was pointing out a cloud in the sky.

"That they do, _da'len_ ," Nimwen nodded.

"Mahvy, you know birdies talk?" Lori asked.

"It is a matter I've been acutely aware of since the day I first met them," he stated and leaned back in seat. He took a sip of the wine and closed his eyes as if savoring the taste. Only a few of the dumplings remained.

"I try dumming?" Lori asked Nimwen.

"Like I said, ask Mahvir," Nimwen replied.

"I have one?" Lori batted her eyes at her brother.

"You may." Mahvir bowed his head to Lori. "Now, the wine on the other hand you must wait on."

"Why I no have juice?" Lori asked, eyeing his wine glass.

"It isn't juice, Princess Lorien." Mahvir looked at Nimwen. "You could give her a sip. It wouldn't do any harm other than the fact she won't like the taste."

"I suppose there would be no harm in a small sip," Nimwen shrugged. "Lori, would you like to try?"

The little girl nodded her head excitedly.

Nimwen brought her glass to Lori's lips and let her have the tiniest of tastes.

The girl's face went from excited, to curious, then finally disgusted. "Eww! That gross!" she scowled.

Mahvir chuckled. "It is aged fruit juice, you will one day like it, but not until you're much older. Here," - he placed a dumpling on her plate - "to rid yourself of that 'icky' taste."

Lori snatched up the dumpling and began to lick it.

"Lori, manners," Nimwen said.

The toddler paused, her tongue still on the dumpling, and looked up at her mother. She then looked away and continued on licking the dumpling.

"And so the princess wolf ignores her queen." Mahvir gave Nimwen an amused look. "Lorien, may you show me again how to use a fork? I seem to have forgotten."

"What? It easy, silly." Lori put her dumpling down and picked up her fork in her fist. She stabbed the dumpling right in the middle. "See?" She showed him the impaled dumpling.

"You are too kind, my princess. You have my thanks." Mahvir bowed to Lori. He then picked up his fork and cut up one of the two remaining dumplings on his plate.

"You are a miracle worker," Nimwen told Mahvir. "I usually have to make two deals with demons before she's willing to behave at the table."

"Are you mocking us, Mortal?" Deceit demanded, her feathers fluffed.

"No, she isn't, Deceit." Mahvir gave the demon a stern look. He turned his gaze back on Nimwen. "Lorien is a special girl. You've done a marvellous job at raising her."

The elven woman gave him a small smile. " _Ma serannas_. It hasn't been easy, and I sometimes wish it could have turned out...differently. But I wouldn't trade her for anything." Nimwen set her fork down and ruffled Lori's hair. "Messes and all." She grinned at the girl.

"You are truly fortunate, both of you." He smiled at Nimwen and Lori. Though, there was a note of sorrow in his voice and the smile was a sad, almost wistful one.

"Mahvy?" Lori asked.

He snapped back at once. "How do you like the dumpling, Princess?" he asked, now really smiling.

"It yummy, but I wonder somethin'."

"What is it, Princess?" he asked.

"Where brothers come from?"

"A good and a little heavy of a question, Princess. Certain brothers will come from your parents like you did. Me? I traveled here from long ago and far away."

"I gots more there?" Lori asked.

"Lori, dear, it's not that simple," Nimwen interjected.

The girl pouted. "I no got more brothers in the brother place? But Mahvy best brother, so they gotta be nice too."

"I am certain your opinion of me would change if you got full blood brothers," Mahvir stated. "As for this 'brother place,' I rather wish the world worked in such away. But to answer your question, no, where I come from you had cousins but no other siblings."

"I got cuzzes?" she asked. "I see them?"

"No." Mahvir looked at her. "One of them I will never let near you. He isn't nice. The others have long since gone. No matter if you believe in the Maker or the Creators, know they are at the side of whoever created this world."

Lori cocked her head to the side. "The gone?"

"Yes they...they had to leave, _da'len_ ," Nimwen explained, the subject making her feel uneasy.

"Like daddy?"

The air felt heavy, and the room grew silent.

"No, Princess Lorien. Your daddy didn't leave in the same way your cousins did," Mahvir's voice was gentle and, yet, there was an underlying hint of determination in each word.

"N-no, he didn't," Nimwen said, feeling as her throat grew tight. "Your daddy had to leave because...he had a job he felt he needed to do."

"Oh," Lori replied quietly. She prodded at what was left of her dumpling with her finger. "Parsey's daddy left 'cause of job, but Parsey gets letters and stuff. How come I no get letters?"

"Well…" This wasn't happening. How was Nimwen supposed to explain to Lori that her own father didn't even know she existed, or at least knew but didn't know she was his?

Mahvir looked from Nimwen to Lori. "Lorien, where your father is, he can't write. But know he loves you." He stood and placed his hand on Lori's head. "Now, you've had quite the exciting, long day. I believe it's time for bed, is it not, Nimwen?"

"That's right," Nimwen nodded, trying to keep up her facade. "Come on, _da'len_." She picked up Lori and set her on her hip. "Let's get you tucked in."

"Where brother sleep?" Lori asked.

"I have a place to stay," Mahvir assured her. He turned his gaze to Nimwen. "I will get the plates cleaned up."

"Okay, and you and I," Nimwen said to Lori a she put her down. "Are going to put all these pillows and blankets back.

Lori pouted. "But, _mamae_ , don't break Fort Nug."

"I'm sorry, Lori, but if you keep Fort Nug you won't have any blankets or pillows, and you don't want to sleep cold do you?"

Lori crossed her arms and grumbled.

"You can always build it again," Nimwen said.

Lori sighed. "But it won't be same," the toddler said wistfully.

"That is the wonder in creation." Mahvir looked at Lori. "You can't recreate the same piece, but you can always make it better, stronger the next time."

Lori looked up at Mahvir. "Really?"

"Really." He smiled at her. "And just think of the new memories you can create in that new, beautiful fort."

Lori put her finger to her mouth. "We...call it Fort Hart?"

"That sounds like a good name," Nimwen smiled.

"That it does." Mahvir bowed his head. "Shall we gather your pillows and blankets first, Princess Lorien?" He bowed to her. "So you may dream sweetly this night."

"Okay," Lori nodded.

Together, the three elves dismantled the fort and put the blankets and pillows back in their proper places.

"Let's get you tucked in," Nimwen said once she put Lori in her nightgown. She tucked the girl into her bed and pulled the blankets up.

" _Mamae_?" Lori asked as she clutched her stuffed nug.

"Yes, _da'len_?"

"Sing me the pretty song?"

Nimwen smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Lori's ear. "Of course, sweetie." Nimwen cleared her throat and began to sing the old lullaby sung to her in the days with her clan.

A soft voice joined in from the other room. So gentle and so quiet it was almost lost in Nimwen's voice.

 _Elgara vallas, da'len_

 _Melava somniar_

 _Mala taren aravas_

 _Ara ma'dessen melar_

 _Iras ma ghias, da'len_

 _Ara ma'nedan ashir_

 _Dirthara lothlenan'as_

 _Bal emma mala dir_

 _Tel'enfenim, da'len_

 _Irassal ma ghilas_

 _Ma garas mir renan_

 _Ara ma'athlan vhenas_

 _Ara ma'athlan vhenas_

As the song went on, Lori's eyes began to droop, and she let out a tiny yawn. By the time the song ended, she had fallen asleep, snuggled into her blankets.

Nimwen kissed her daughter's forehead then quietly stood. She turned and saw Mahvir standing in the doorway.

"Apologies, Nimwen." Mahvir bowed his head and backed from the doorway into the other room. The sound of him gathering plates followed.

Nimwen quietly left the room, closing the door behind her, and joined Mahvir. "I didn't know you sang," she said as she picked up the two wine glasses.

"It's been a long time, especially since I'd heard _Mir Da'len Somnair_ ," he confessed. "That song is the oldest one our People have. I am glad it's not been forgotten to time."

"I didn't realize, I thought it was just a Dalish song." Nimwen smiled. "It's nice to know it was more...it was something we were able to preserve."

"One of the few good memories I have of Mythal from my childhood was her singing that lullaby to Falon'Din and I." There was a distant look to his eyes. "The song is as old as Falon'Din and I at the very least, if not older."

"I can't believe it's that old," Nimwen said. "I remember vaguely my mother singing it to me, but I mostly remember Sinderon singing it. He has such a deep voice, when he sang it would always put me right to sleep."

Mahvir chuckled. "You should hear Solas sing. Though, you would have to whittle it out of him first. The only time I heard him sing was in a bet Mythal got him and Elgar'nan into to see which could sing better. Being young and brothers, it ended up being quite the competition."

Nimwen chuckled. "I would have loved to hear Solas sing. I remember he would sometimes hum to himself while he painted. Though, as soon as he realized I was watching, he would stop."

"Always the shy one. He wasn't too happy when he learned I had been listening and asked if he could sing Falon and I to sleep that night. Mythal also was appalled by the idea. She shot it down, much to Solas's relief. Granted, back then I didn't realize her reasons weren't because she just didn't want another to sing to Falon and I." He chuckled. "It was still amusing."

"Perhaps if-when I get Solas back I'll convince him to sing," Nimwen mused.

"I swear to you, I will do everything in my power so you and Lorien have him back by the end of Lorien's third birthday." Mahvir bowed to Nimwen. "I can speed us up so the travel time from here to Denerim takes only a few days instead of a month. You will have Solas back, Nimwen." With those words, he finished gathering everything onto the tray. "Goodnight." He nodded to her. Then he was gone, tray and all.

Nimwen blinked, wondering why he'd left so quickly. "And why by Lori's birthday?" Nimwen wondered. It would be nice to have him around for Lori's birthday, but the way Mahvir said it made it sound like it was a crucial deadline. The elven woman sighed. Mahvir was as cryptic as his father.

She shook her head, and that's when she heard a noise come from the dining table. She turned and did her best not to laugh. Fear and Deceit were passed out side by side on top of the table, cake crumbs smeared on their beaks and on their feathers. Nimwen looked around and found a small, unused dish towel and picked it up. Carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping ravens, she draped it over the two birds, leaving just their heads exposed.

Fear shifted and hiccuped in his sleep.

Deceit mumbled, "No, no, I couldn't possibly have more cake." She twitched her shoulders and turned her head away from Fear. "Maybe one more bite. Or all of it." Her voice trailed off into the soft mumbles of sleep.

Nimwen put her hand to her mouth to hold in her snickers. She snuck out of the living room and into her bedroom. She removed her clothes and got into her nightgown. She removed her prosthetic and placed it on the bedside table. Then, she got into bed and drifted off to sleep, more content than she had been in a long time.

*~ x ~*

The night had fallen, leaving most asleep within the Cathedral. Mahvir was left awake, woken from the past by the same moment playing in his mind each night. The worst moments of his life repeated over and over as he subconcious pulled those moments to the surface. It was an endless torment. One he knew would only end if he died or, if somehow, he could move on and live a life anew.

He shut out those thoughts as he entered one of the rooms in the Cathedral. The long room was lined with wooden pews and ended with a statue of Andraste. Before they had left for the temple, Mahvir had found this room and now, while he was here, he came here each night.

Mahvir crossed the room, his eyes never leaving the statue of Andraste. This was now the only way he could see her outside of the last moments of her life. The moments which played along with others in an endless loop when he tried to sleep.

The cold stone face, showed nothing of the warm, stern, kind woman he had loved. The statue placed in honor of what she had upheld instead of the woman herself. But it was all he had.

"Forgive me, _ma lath_ ," he whispered. He placed a single, red rose before the statue. "I couldn't save you then. If there is a Maker, I know when my time comes I will never be granted a place beside you. Perhaps Maferath and I can torment one another for eternity instead. Rather fitting, don't you think, Andraste? After all, I did kill him in cold blood."

"You did what?"

"Good evening, Seeker." Mahvir didn't turn. He had known there was a future where Cassandra would find him here. Yet, he had never feared it. What fates lay at the end of this night, he would take.

"I had been curious who kept leaving roses," Cassandra explained as she walked between the pews. "You said...you _killed_ Maferath?" She stopped just behind Mahvir. "But it was his sons who killed him. Are you saying you are…?"

"Yes, Isorath, Evrion, and Verald. The boys found me and learned what transpired to the woman they loved as a mother. They aided me in corning Maferath, but, in the end, I took it upon myself to kill him in their stead. It isn't a moment I am proud of, Seeker."

"You knew Andraste?" There was disbelief in her voice. "Just _who_ are you?"

Mavhir stood and limped over to the pew. "It's not a short story. Sit and I will explain all of it to you, Seeker."

"Very well." Cassandra took a seat in the first pew, beside Mahvir. She crossed her arms. When she turned her head to him in her eyes there was suspicion, but also curiosity. "Start at the beginning."

"I have gone by many names over my long life. As an elvhen with a weak connection to the Fade, I am denied the long slumber normal, ancient elvhen can take," Mahvir started to explain, knowing she needed the full truth. "Though Solas never knew, I fought at his side to stop the others from destroying all of the People. I, like him, knew the world where the Veil was constructed would be a far better one than all the possibilities.

"After the construction of the Veil, I wandered the world until eventually the Tevinter Imperium found me with a group of other elvhen I had been trying to aid. We were taken, tortured for information on the whereabouts of the others; then broken. Those who survived were sold into slavery. Stripped of identities, our heads shaved and bodies branded so men and women looked close to the same.

"A few years passed until the fact I didn't age became noticed by my masters. I became a curiosity. They tried everything to learn my secrets and recorded their findings. One night, I managed to trick the guards and escaped with a group of other slaves. We crossed Thedas, running, our masters on our trail at all times." He trailed off, eyes closed. He could hear the echo of the pursuers, the fear in the other's voices as they ran and ran without end.

"I see." Cassandra's voice was quiet, a mix of sympathy for his plight as well as discomfort at the description of the ancient Tevinters' actions. "What happened after?"

Mahvir opened his eyes as he continued, "One night we stopped at foot of a lonely hill. Tried and with little food to share between us, my People feared fates far worse than returning to their masters and bearing a beating. I couldn't stand the despair and convinced them we could win in an ambush against our pursers. The chant makes it out far prettier than it really was. Many died that night, but we came through victors.

"For the first time in their memories, my People were turned from the hunted to the hunters. While the victory came at great cost, they found a steely determination and hope we could fight and die for something other than our masters. They took up the weapons and armor of the fallen hunters and turned to me. In the blink of an eye, in one night's battle, I took back up the role of the leader without ever wanting such a role. The name I went by back then was Shartan."

Cassandra's eyes widened, and Mahvir could see her frame stiffen. Bearing the likeness of a gaping fish, she would open her mouth to speak, but then immediately close it. After a moment, she seemed to regain her speech. "Y-you…?" she began quietly. "You are Shartan?"

"Yes." Mahvir bowed his head to her. "I am Shartan. To those who still seek me, I still bare the name."

"But Shartan was burned alongside Andraste," Cassandra countered. "How, how is this possible?"

"I am a time mage, Seeker. I managed to age the bonds which held me in order break from the pyre, yet, I wasn't fast enough to save her." Mahvir felt his throat close. He could feel the flames on his hands as he reached through the frozen fire towards her, only to find her already dead. The horror he had felt in the moment, the raw torment and devastation which had wrapped around him.

"I...do not know what to say." Cassandra bowed her head. "It is an honor to be in your presence."

Mahvir chuckled. "Seeker, I am no different than I was the day we were at the temple. All you have learned is one more moment in my life. Moments which make me just as flawed as the next person. And all you have learned is how half my body ended up burned."

"Yes, but, you walked beside Holy Andraste. You were her closest ally. You helped change the history of Thedas. I can't ignore that."

Mahvir let out a low breath and looked at the statue of the woman he had fallen for. "For once, I would like to not change history. It seems like that is all I have done with my life." He gave a hollow, soft laugh to this.

"What was she like?"

The question pulled at Mahvir. "More than the person the Chanty has made her out to be." He paused. "Are you certain you wish to know, Seeker?"

"Yes, it's…" Cassandra seemed to collect her thoughts. "The Chantry is an imperfect vessel, I know this. I know despite our efforts people change things to further their own goals, or desires. I saw what happened to Nimwen after the truth of the _evanuris_ came out. It devastated her, as I'm sure _I_ would have been if such a revelation hit me. And now I am sitting next to the man who was with the Prophetess. I just want to know...that at least some of it was true. That she really was a woman who wanted to change the world with a song."

"And blade." Mahvir let out a long breath. "Nimwen heard part of the truth, one side of a story sixty centuries in the making. As for Andraste, I can tell of the woman I knew and grew to care for. Her voice was unmatched, this is true, but one can't change the world with song. Most times the world has changed has been changed through force and armies. Rarely has change through other means."

"Unfortunately this is true," Cassandra sighed. "I am curious, what did you do after escaping the flames in Minrathous? Why did you not reveal your survival to your people?"

"I wasn't in a position to do much, Seeker. I managed to find Isorath, Evrion, and Verald. They helped me get so I could speak again. Then I told them what had happened. I hadn't meant to kill Maferath, but when we cornered him, rage overtook me.

"You see, Andraste was someone who was extremely hard to hate. Most who knew her, loved her in their own way. The best way I can describe her is a mixture between your more forceful personality and Nimwen's caring one. She loved her people and was brutal to her enemies. When off the field of battle there was no one as kind as her. But she did have moments where she turned playful." It hurt to speak of Andraste, but all through this his voice remained calm and even. There was nothing of the pain he still felt in her passing or the guilt which clawed him each night for surviving and for killing Maferath.

"I never thought someone would compare myself to Andraste," Cassandra chuckled. "Sometimes I find it hard to remember she was a mortal woman. It seems just impossible for somebody like that to be made of flesh and blood like the rest of us."

"As most Elvhen would state about the _evanuris_ ," Mahvir pointed out. "Yet, you have met myself and Fen'Harel or Solas, as you know him. Do we seem godlike to you?" He flicked his wrist, dismissing the question he had just asked. "The point is, history often makes those deemed important out to be greater than they are. Their flaws and everything which makes them appear of this world, twisted or stripped to enhance the greatness in them. Or, in some cases, shown to make them out as worse than they were.

"Maferath wasn't a bad man. Get him drunk and he turned the most boisterous person. He loved music, his people, and, more than anything else, Andraste."

"Yet, he betrayed her, out of jealousy," Cassandra retorted. "Regardless whether he was less the villain the Chantry makes him out to be, I cannot forgive any man who would let his wife be burned alive."

Mahvir lifted his hands. "Let me put it this way," he started, "the world is seen in shades of gray. There are those like Andraste, you, and Nimwen who stand more in the lighter shades, towards the white. There are those who stand in the middle such as Solas. Then there are those who stand a little further from the center such as Maferath.

"What has spread as a mere rumor in this time, is truth. Andraste betrayed him before he betrayed her. Granted, he wouldn't have died from her kind of betrayal; yet, it remains truth. And thus, you have those like me who stand all the closer to the darkness than others."

"She betrayed him?" Cassandra asked, brow raised. "How did she betray him?"

Mahvir looked away from Cassandra. "There is a bit of gossip she and I were secret lovers."

"And this is...true?"

"Yes."

"I…" Cassandra looked down into her lap. "I don't know what to say."

"It isn't something I proud of, Seeker. The fact remains I fell in love with a woman who was already married. A woman her people believed was the chosen bride of their god. And, even if it was only for a brief time, she returned those feelings." He closed his eyes. "No matter how much I wish to deny it, I still love her. Her and-" he broke off. He would never tell another of the child. Of his daughter or how Maferath had eventually learned the truth about the baby girl who hadn't lived to see her first sunrise. Mahvir's heart twisted at the thought of his daughter.

Cassandra was silent. She tilted her head to gaze at the statue of Andraste. "It seems almost ironic, do you not think? That a man who was once an elven god, should win the heart of the human Messiah?" She looked over to him. "You truly loved her?"

"More than even my People," he whispered. "When I was with her, for a brief moment, I wasn't someone running from their past. I wasn't the elvhen god of secrets. Or the man his People believed in. I was just me."

Cassandra nodded. "You remind me much of Nimwen," she said. "She once told me that it was Solas who allowed her to forget her duties as the Harold and as Inquisitor. _'He makes me feel like Nimwen again,'_ is how she put it, I believe." Cassandra stood from the pew. "I should be going. I have things that must be attended to in the morning, not to mention you have given much to...ponder." The Seeker gave a small bow. "Have a goodnight…" The words trailed off her tongue into an unsure silence.

"You may continue to call me Mahvir, Seeker." Mahvir gave her a small smile. "Goodnight." He bowed his head to her.

The corners of her mouth turned upward. "Goodnight, Mahvir." With that the Seeker left the sanctuary room, her steps echoing off the walls until they faded away.

Mahvir turned his gaze back to the statue of Andraste. Two months. Two months until Nimwen got her happy ending with Solas. Two months until Solas realized this world was worth saving. And two months until Mahvir, finally, found his own ending, one way or another.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

At last, the first proof which would prove to Solas, Dirthamen had been trying to twist the situation. He stared at the folded documents. His long fingers moved to open them, but then he stopped. What if Dirthamen had been telling the truth?

Fear and warmth crept into Solas's heart. If he did have a child, what then? The possibility was still small; yet, if he did - No! Dirthamen had always been a master at manipulation. He didn't have a child. He never would have children. Though, there had a been a moment, where he could picture himself with Nimwen and having a family. A real family, not one which had been messed up by time and greed. Still, he couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let himself forgot who he was or his crimes to be with his heart.

Solas took a deep breath. He unfolded the documents.

The girl's name was Lorien Hylea Lavellan. It was a pretty name. He imagined the girl looked like her mother, just as kind and beautiful.

He moved the images from his head. His eyes skimmed through page until his gaze locked onto a date. His heart froze. Two months from today was Lorien's birthday. That was just over nine months after-after... Emotions swept through him, taking him up in a wave after wave. His heart swelled as a fuzziness filled his mind. Then frozen with a shocked horror.

No! Solas squeezed his eyes shut and shoved aside the feelings in him. He had broken up with Nimwen so soon after they had lain together. There was a very real possibility Nimwen had sought comfort with another. He had torn out her heart and his in the same moment. Lorien was the child of another man. All this proved was there was a little larger of a chance she might be- No, he couldn't believe he had a child.

Dirthamen always manipulated and twisted truths.

" _You can never know my truth."_ The words Dirthamen had uttered from some unknown moment echoed in Solas's ears.

Solas folded the documents. " _Ir abelas_ ," he whispered. " _Ir abelas, vhenan_. You were wrong about him." And Solas had been right all along. Dirthamen was just as cruel and twisted as his father.

Solas looked out in the direction of Demirem. The Eluvian had gotten them close enough to the city. It was only a matter of time before he would face his nephew again. This time, Solas would ensure the last of the _evanuris_ was destroyed for good. The only way to kill Dirthamen would be to drain him of all his power and destroy the two demons who served him.

Even this might not be enough. What could be, would be take control of him. But this would require Solas to die and this didn't much appeal to him. He could and would find away to end the last free _evanuris_.

A thought wormed into Solas's mind. Dirthamen would hold all the knowledge he had destroyed in his temple. There was no need to search out another temple when the true source still walked free. Dirthamen could never forget anything. His mind was sharp. Out of all the others, it had been Solas's youngest nephew who had been able to best him in games of strategy. Dirthamen who could come up with the most solid of tactics. Solas had never, _never_ been able to best him.

It was time to turn the tables. Dirthamen was frail and far weaker physically than he had ever been. All Solas needed to do was turn this game of hunter and prey into one which the prey turned to the hunter.

The first steps would be taken by his nephew. After all, Solas knew Dirthamen would be heading here. All Solas had to do was keep moving according to his original plans. Dirthamen would come. It was then Solas could trap his nephew in one of the realms of the crossroads. There, Solas would take Dirthamen's power and trapped whatever remained of his nephew. It was a fate Dirthamen had managed to wiggle from twenty centuries ago. This time, there would be no escape for him.

*~ x ~*

"Are you sure you have all the things you wanted to bring?"

"Uh-huh."

"Are you sure, _da'len_? Once we go we can't come back if you forgot a toy."

"I got them, _mamae_."

Nimwen sighed. "All right, if you're certain."

Packing for the trip to Denerim had been a stressful endeavor for Nimwen. Not for her things, the elf had spent a lifetime travelling with only the bare essentials. No, her stress came from preparing her daughter for their journey to Ferelden.

Unlike for the expedition to the temple of Dirthamen, Nimwen made the decision to bring Lori on the trip instead of leaving her in Val Royeaux. She couldn't bare to be apart from her daughter for longer than what was necessary, and she believed the trip to Denerim would be good for Lori. The only parts of Ferelden the child had ever experienced were the Frostback mountains and a single trip to Redcliffe when she was still an infant.

Nimwen grew up on the road, in the wilderness of Thedas and loved her worldly lifestyle, and she wasn't about to raise Lori sheltered like a highborn noble. "Now, Lori," Nimwen began as she folded more of the clothes that needed packing. Even with her hook the act was challenging, but she managed. "While we're on the road you can't wander off, and you have to listen to the grown ups, okay?"

"I know," Lori said while braiding the yarn hair of one of her dolls.

"I don't think you do," Nimwen replied. "Do you remember when we were coming here from Skyhold? How you wandered away from camp, _twice_?"

Lori pouted, her head down.

"Lori, look at me."

The little girl grumbled incoherently under her breath.

"Lorien, look at me."

Lori let out a huff and looked up.

"Now I don't mean to be the spoil sport and I love that you want to explore, but when we're on the road you can't go off by yourself. You could get hurt, or somebody could take you and we would never know. You don't want that, do you?"

Lori shook her head.

"Then, once we go off you need to stay near me, Uncle Cullen, Aunt Franne, or Mahvir. Do you understand?"

Lori sighed. "Okay, _mamae_."

Nimwen smiled and sat on the bed. "Good." She picked up the girl and set her in her lap. "I would be very sad if anything happened to you," she said, kissing the top of the girl's head.

"Where brother?" Lori asked out of the blue.

"You know, I'm not sure," Nimwen replied.

A soft knock sounded. "Nimwen?" the voice was Mahvir's.

"Mahvy!"

Nimwen grunted when Lori launched herself from the older elf's lap.

The girl ran to the door and began jumping for the handle.

"Lori, I'll get it," Nimwen chuckled.

"No!" Lori said adamantly. Dancing on the tips of her toes, the child's small fingers managed to graze the door handle. With one final hop she seized the handle, and then the tiny child hopped backwards to pull the door open. "Brother!" She grinned after running back around.

" _Aneth ara_ , Princess Lorien." Mahvir gave Lori a slight bow. "Good morning, Nimwen." Mahvir turned his gaze on Nimwen. He looked even more tired than usual. "The others are starting to gather to leave," he informed her. "Would you like aid in finishing packing?"

"Sure," Nimwen said. "There's not much else."

"Mahvy, lookit, lookit, her hair pretty." Lori proudly showed him her doll, whose yarn hair was in a tangled mess trying to pass as a braid.

"It is very pretty." Mahvir gave Lorien a warm smile before he placed his staff by the door. He limped over to Nimwen. "I am at your command, Queen Nimwen." He gave her the most elegant of bows.

Nimwen smirked. "Very well, I command you to fold the last of these dresses," Nimwen ordered, pointing to the tiny dresses laid out on the bed.

"By your command." Mahvir straightened and moved to the dresses. He folded them with ease and what seemed to be years of practice. Though, his clothing spoke of anything but well cared for.

"Mahvy, you 'cited to go Dairymim?" Lori asked as she sat on the ground, leaning against the back of Mahvir's legs.

"It's Denerim, _da'len_ ," Nimwen corrected her.

"Dinner-men?"

"Denerim."

"Dilly-mibs?"

"Den-er-rim."

"Dally-Fibs?"

"Now, I'm certain you're doing this on purpose."

Lori let out a stream of giggles that let her mother know this was true. "So, you happy we go, huh? Huh?" Lori asked her brother.

Mahvir paused in the folding of the dresses. His eyes locked on them as if he couldn't see the dresses at all. Then, he looked down and gave Lori a small smile. "Yes, I am looking forward to it."

"I've never been to Denerim, actually," Nimwen said. "I wonder if it's anything like Val Royeaux. I hope it's less of a maze at least."

Mahvir looked at her, eyes sparkling with laughter. "Oh, you needn't fear Denerim being like Val Royeaux. Image dog statues, stone, and drafty halls. They build to last the cold and harsher weather, not for galmore."

"That's a comfort," Nimwen chuckled. "I don't have to worry about cold, and I'm sure the dog statues are lovely."

"I like dogs!" Lori told Mahvir. "They go woof!"

Mahvir chuckled. "That they do." He smiled at Lori then looked back at Nimwen. "Would you like aid carrying these bags down?" he asked and gave her a slight bow.

"Sure," Nimwen said. She shouldered the bag containing Lori's clothes and grabbed her own bag. "Can you take that last one?"

"Certainly." Mahvir bent. He lifted the bag carrying Lori's toys and a few other items. He limped out of the room.

"Have you been to Denerim before?" Nimwen asked as the three of them left the room. Lori walked beside her holding the older elf's hand, and she dragged her doll behind her with her other hand.

"A few times on business with our People there," Mahvir replied. He picked up his staff from just outside the room. "The current _Hahren_ of the alienage is quite an outspoken woman about our People's rights within human cities. I've never met her, but I know the previous _Hahren_ very well."

"Perhaps we could visit there?" Nimwen asked. "Even with my time in the Inquisition, I've had so few opportunities to meet more of our people in the cities. I've heard the stories of what the Hero of Ferelden did for the elves in Denerim, I'd like to meet them myself."

"I would like that." There was a distant almost sad note to Mahvir's voice. "Valendrian is too weak to make trips outside the city so it's been a few years since I last was able to see him." Mahvir paused at the top of the long stairs which would lead them down to the courtyard where the others would be waiting for them.

"Mahvy, we race?" Lori asked, jumping excitedly.

"Lori, we do not run down the stairs," Nimwen warned the girl. _'Also, I'm fairly certain a run down the stairs is not an option.'_ she thought to herself.

"But I wolf, wolf go fast," Lori insisted.

"Yes, and good little wolves listen to the mama wolf."

Lori pouted. "You no fun."

"Dear Princess Lorien," Mahvir started in formal tones, "you are a good little wolf princess. Besides, I have no doubt in my mind you would cream me in a race any day." He started down the steps. As usual he led with his staff and bad leg, but his progress was slower than normal. His free hand held to the bag and made it harder for him to walk down the steps at the normal pace he managed.

Nimwen let Lori go in front as the two followed Mahvir. "Lori, I said to not go fast," she said when she saw Lori scrambling down the steps.

"I no fast!" Lori frowned.

"Yes, you were. Don't play on the stairs or you'll trip."

" _Mamaeeeee_ ," Lori whined.

"Don't start. I don't want you messing around on the stairs and that's final."

Lori huffed and crossed her arms.

Nimwen felt a headache forming when the toddler then, with defiance in her eyes, proceeded to plop down right on the stair. "Lorien, get up."

"No."

"Stand up."

" _No_."

"Excuse me, young lady?"

Mahvir stopped and set down the bag. Instead of speaking, he went down and lifted Lori off the ground. She was tucked under his arm like a bag. He started down the stairs leaving the bag behind.

"Mahvy!" Lori whined, looking utterly betrayed.

"It is far from safe to throw tantrums on stairs," he stated, voice tight.

"I can take the bag," Nimwen said as she grabbed the abandoned bag. "You can handle her, I hope?"

"You both no fun," Lori grumbled.

"This is far from my first dance with a child," Mahvir stated. His breathing sounded as if it was starting to act up. He made it to the bottom of the first flight of steps and looked down at Lori.

"I hope this isn't going to be a continuing thing while we're on the road," Nimwen said to Lori.

The child mumbled under her breath.

Nimwen raised a brow. "What was that?"

"Nothin'."

Mahvir shook his head, but didn't pause to speak. Instead, he started down the next flight of steps. He didn't right Lori or set her down.

"So stubborn," Nimwen sighed. "I don't know where she gets it from."

Mahvir didn't speak until they reached the bottom of the last flight of stairs. He stopped, his breathing uneven and harsh. After a long moment, his breathing eased and he managed to speak. "I suspect it's from the other side of her family. We have some very stubborn people on that side."

"I suppose so." Nimwen had noticed Mahvir's breathing growing worse. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Stairs tend to take a lot out of me. I am fine now." His breathing had eased up, but was still tight. "It's not far to where the others are waiting now."

"Okay, well, you can set her down. I'm sure she knows to behave now." Nimwen looked at Lori. " _Right_ , _da'len_?"

"Yeah," Lori said quietly.

Mahvir knelt down and placed Lori on the ground. " _Ir abelas_ , Lorien, but it really wasn't safe to stop in the middle of the stairs." He placed his hand on her head. His smile tired, but kind and gentle.

"Okay, we race later?"

Nimwen cringed. " _Da'len_ , Mahvir doesn't like to run."

Lori cocked her head. "Huh, why not?"

"It's all right," Mahvir told Nimwen. He looked back at Lori, still kneeling on the ground. "I can't run, Lorien. I have a bad leg," his voice was gentle and soft. There was no pain in it, only patients.

"Bad leg?" Lori asked. "Why it bad? It mean?"

Mahvir chuckled. "Sometimes, but that isn't the point. What I mean, is I was injured a very long time ago and thus, my leg isn't as strong as other people's."

"I sorry," Lori said. She hugged his right leg and kissed his knee. "There, happy leg."

"Wrong leg, but my thanks." Mahvir unwrapped her hands and stood. "I can take the bag again, Nimwen. My apologies for not being able to aid with it as well." He bowed his head to Nimwen.

"It's fine, this isn't even that heavy," Nimwen assured him. "Trust me, back with my clan I had to carry things _much_ heavier than this."

"Still, would you like aid with the bags the rest of way?" he asked.

Nimwen sighed. "If you insist," she said. She was more than capable of handing the bags herself, but she knew Mahvir wanted to contribute, despite her telling him it wasn't necessary.

"My thanks." He took the bag and turned to Lorien. "Shall we go see the chariot the little princess gets to ride in?"

"Yay cherry-pit!" Lori clapped.

"Chariot." Mahvir chuckled. "Only the best for a princess."

"I know, I have pretty high standards."

Nimwen chuckled. "Since when are you a princess?"

Franne smirked from the bottom of the stairs. "Come on, I've _always_ been the princess."

"Of course, Captain." Mahvir bowed his head to Franne. "That is why you dislike my calling you 'Lady Franne,' correct?" he teased.

"No, I got just got tired of being 'Lady Franne' a long time ago," Franne shrugged. "I'm happier being Mrs. Rutherford."

"Speaking of which, where is Cullen?" Nimwen asked as the three elves walked down the stairs.

"He's making sure the chariot can survive a dragon attack," Franne joked.

"I'm not surprised given how far along you are," Nimwen said.

Franne patted her swollen stomach. "This little guy has to be tough as nails, given the bruises he's given me."

Mahvir smiled, but didn't otherwise speak. The group joined Franne.

" _Mamae_?" Lori asked.

"Yes?"

"Why her tummy big?" Lori asked, pointing to Franne.

"She has a baby in there," Nimwen explained.

Lori's eyes grew wide. " _Really_?" She turned to Mahvir. "Mahvy, there a baby in there!"

"Yes," he replied. He looked at Nimwen, his eyebrows raised in a statement which seemed to say "she had to confirm this with me?" His eyes were shining with laughter at this.

"How it get there?" Lori asked.

Nimwen sputtered. "That's...a grown-up thing, _da'len_. It's very boring and you won't care about it until you're older."

"But I wanna know now," Lori pouted. "Big brother, how the baby there? He get eaten?"

Mahvir chuckled. "No, Lorien. You see when a mom and dad love one another they create a new life. But the baby has to be protected by his or her mother until they are ready for the world." He seemed to be making a little story for Lori so as to avoid telling her the "grown-up" parts.

"Ohhhh," Lori responded.

"Yup, you were in your mom's tummy too, you know?" Franne added.

"I was?" Lori asked Nimwen in disbelief.

"That you were," the elf replied.

"How the baby come out?" She looked to Mahvir, since her brother had been the only one to answer her question.

"Hmm," Mahvir frowned. "Well, when the baby big enough he or she doesn't need protection, then they appear."

"So, you came out _mamae's_ tummy too?"

Mahvir chuckled. "I'm afraid not. I'm a little old to be Nimwen's son."

Lori cocked her head to the side. "But...you my brother?"

Nimwen sighed. She was wondering when this subject would come up. She was surprised Lori hadn't asked sooner, but the toddler was always glancing over such details. Mahvir was her new big brother, and she wasn't concerned where he came from. Until now. "You see, Lori, Mahvir is actually your half-brother."

"'Half-brother?'" Lori repeated.

"Yes. He's still your brother, he just didn't come from my tummy."

Mahvir knelt down before Lori. "Besides, not all siblings have to be blood for you to view them as your brother or sister." He placed his hand on her head. "It's more a feeling in here," he placed his hand on her small chest. "A feeling you belong with those around you. That you love them as if they really were blood related to you."

"Maker, you need to get that stitched on a pillow," Franne laughed. "But, he's right, kiddo, family's all about who you want to be around. You got a pretty smart brother."

"Mahvy the _best_ brother," Lori proclaimed proudly.

"My thanks, Lorien. You're the best sister." He used his staff to pull himself to his feet. "Shall we? After all, we shouldn't keep the commander waiting." He smiled at Franne.

"I'll be surprised if he hasn't started to search for me," the redhead smirked.

"Then let's not keep him waiting," said Nimwen.

Mahvir hefted the bag Nimwen had given him. He limped off to where the covered carriage and the commander would be waiting for them. His pace was slow.

"So, do you really think you'll find Solas?" Franne asked Nimwen, voice low.

"Mahvir seems to think so," Nimwen responded. "And it's our only lead so far."

"I still can't believe the guy you told me about wants to blow up everything."

Nimwen pursed her lips. "Neither can I."

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Franne apologized. "It's just...well, crap I don't really know where I was going with this. Just be careful, okay? I know you have that shiny, new, hook thingy, but don't do anything stupid, all right?"

"I'll keep that in mind, but thank you, Franne."

" _Mamaeee_ , you and Aunt Franne slow!" Lori whined.

"Sorry, kiddo, pregnant ladies are slow."

"Why don't you go catch up with Mahvir?" Nimwen asked.

Needing no further instruction, Lori skipped ahead of the two women towards her brother.

"She is something else, isn't she?" Franne chuckled.

"Yeah, she is."

There was a sound coming from the other side of the carriage. The next moment Vir appeared around it, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I'm not going crash the carriage!" he snapped.

"And I'm saying that I don't know you, and am certainly not putting you in charge of my family's safety!"

"Cullen, darling, what are you doing?" Franne smirked, eyebrow raised.

"This man says _he's_ driving?" Cullen pointed a finger at the elf. "I do not recognize him, and refuse to have him anywhere near the reins."

"Vir?" Nimwen asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Inquisitor, you know him?" asked Cullen.

"I am in the serves of… Mahvir. Where else would I be?" Vir asked. "And I am not leaving Mahvir surrounded by humans!" He glared at Cullen. "Especially you."

"If you have something to say, _say it_ ," Cullen growled.

"I am capable of protecting myself, Vir," Mahvir stated. "Besides, I would rather not have you two fighting. It would end up to the death."

"I am coming!" Vir moved up to Mahvir. "You're not leaving me behind this time or making me think you're dead, or any of it. I am coming!" He shot a glare at Cullen. "No matter what this quick child, pretty boy says."

"What did you just call me?!"

"Boys, boys, calm down. You're both pretty," Franne sighed as she got between the two. She turned to Cullen. "Look, it's sweet that you're concerned, but that doesn't mean you get to be a bully."

"'Bully?'" Cullen repeated.

"Noodle." Franne took the Commander's hands in hers. "I'm fine, the baby's fine. You need to unwind a bit."

With her words, the blond man's tense frame seemed to relax some. "I'm sorry," he said. "With the baby coming soon, I guess I've been a bit on edge."

"I know," Franne said. "Now, apologize to…" she trailed off. She turned to Vir. "Your name?"

Vir opened his mouth.

"His name is Vir," Mahvir stated before Vir could speak. "And he needs to also relax and release my arm."

" _Ir abelas, hahren_." Vir stepped back, head bowed. He spoke a few quick words in elvish to Mahvir who narrowed his eyes in response.

"Okay, Vir, apologize to him," Franne said to Cullen.

Cullen sighed. "I am sorry, Vir, I was a bit harsh and said things I didn't mean."

Vir glared at Cullen.

 _Whack_ \- the soft sound of Mahvir's staff hitting Vir's head sounded.

Vir grumbled and rubbed his head. "Apology accepted, quick child." He rubbed his head where Mahvir had struck him.

"And?" Mahvir pressed, eyebrow raised.

"My apologies for not being understanding," Vir grumbled.

Nimwen resisted the urge to chuckle. It was like disciplining children.

"Hi, Uncle Cullen," Lori spoke up, waving at the blond.

"Hello, Lori." Cullen smiled.

"We go to Den-nim!"

"Yes, let's get on with that, shall we?" Franne suggested.

Vir leapt into the front of the carriage with one last glance at Mahvir.

"Children," Mahvir muttered under his breath. He placed the bag with the others.

"I shall drive," said Cullen.

"Of course, dear," Franne replied as she gave a knowing smirk to Nimwen.

"Come on, Lori, into the carriage," Nimwne said. She placed the bags onto the ground and helped her daughter inside.

"Hey, Mahvy, it cozy," Lori said.

"I suppose it is." Mahvir chuckled.

"Come on, ladies, we're burning daylight," Franne said from inside the carriage.

"Here, Mahvir, help me with these bags," Nimwen said.

Mahvir obeyed. He bent and picked up one of the bags to place it where he had the last one.

After they loaded the last of the bags into the carriage, Nimwen and Mahvir took their seats inside the cabin. Nimwen and Franne sat together while Lori claimed the spot across from them next to Mahvir.

Mahvir smiled at Lori. "Excited, Princess Lorien?" he asked with a slight bow.

"Yeah, yeah!" Lori nodded, bouncing in her seat.

"Try not to jump around too much," Nimwen warned the little girl.

"But, it fun," Lori giggled. "The seat bouncy."

"Yes, well, I'm sure Mahvir doesn't like feeling you bounce," Nimwen retorted.

Mahvir smiled. "Here." He held out the raven he had given Lori not too long ago. "I do wish you were old enough for a puzzle."

"Maybe you could teach her when she's older," Nimwen said.

"I like puffles," Lori said.

"You like watching _me_ do puzzles."

" _Mamae_ good at puffles," Lori told Mahvir.

"I don't doubt that." Mahvir placed his hand on her head. "I am certain I can make one with pieces big enough for you." He smiled at her.

"You are going to spoil her rotten," Nimwen said with a shake of her head.

"Ha! As if you haven't done that already," Franne smirked.

"Ah, but what is the point to having a little sister if I can't spoil her?" Mahvir joked.

"He loooves me," Lori giggled as she leaned into his side.

Mahvir wrapped his arm around her. "That I do, little princess."


	16. Chapter 16

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: SHOUT OUTS GO OUT TO: Pokemon-Ranger-Aiko, Blaufeder** **,** **izanarukami818, and all you other awesome people who have been so supportive of our story!**

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Chapter 16:

Mahvir felt drained by the time they arrived in Denerim. He had sped up the trip there by warping time around them. It was near sunset by the end of the week when they arrived in the city. Despite the fact he knew he wouldn't sleep this night, he was glad the trip was over.

The carriage jolted to a stop. The sounds of Cullen and Vir talking could be heard now. It seemed the two were getting along now.

"Maker must have done a miracle, they stopped trying to kill each other," Franne smirked.

"I still can't believe they bickered the whole way here," Nimwen chuckled.

The redhead shrugged. "Men, what can you do?"

Mahvir blinked. He was going to pretend he didn't hear that. Instead he slipped out of the carriage and held out his hand. "My ladies?" he asked with a slight bow of his head.

"A gentleman, what a rare specimen," Franne joked.

"Maybe you just don't know where to look for them," Nimwen quipped.

"You wound me, madame, and I already snagged one," Franne replied as she took Mahvir's hand.

Mahvir helped her down. "Perhaps, it is just me being old fashioned," he teased.

"Me now!" Lorien called out as she scrambled in her seat.

"Of course, the princess next." Mahvir knelt down, hiding a wince behind a smile as he held out his hand to Lorien.

"We here?" Lorien asked as she grabbed his hand.

"That's right, _da'len_ , we're in Denerim," Nimwen said.

Mahvir picked up Lorien with his other hand and placed her on the ground. "Now, please don't run off, no matter how curious you are about what's going on," he told her.

"Woah, look this place," Lori gasped. Her little mouth hung open as she took in the city.

"You listen to what Mahvir said," Nimwen warned the girl. "We agree no running off, remember?"

"Big dog!" Lorien yelled, pointing to a dog statue.

"Yes, that is a mabari," Mahvir told her. "They're very popular here." He pulled himself to his feet then picked up Lorien so she wouldn't run off. She would soon be too big for him to lift. It was already becoming a struggle for him.

"Cullen's got one," Franne said. "I'm fairly sure he wants to breed a legion of them. Not that I'd mind. Kids and dogs go together like ham and cheese."

"They remind me of halla," Nimwen added. "They understand more than the average creature, and when treated like equals they show an unmatched loyalty."

Ham and cheese? Mahvir withheld making a face at the idea. "I think I would take a halla over a dog," he muttered.

"Is everyone ready to head inside?" Cullen asked as he and Vir joined the others.

Franne scoffed. "We only got here, can't we take a moment to breathe?"

"I would have assumed you'd rather breathe inside where you could be sitting," Cullen replied.

Mahvir shook his head and looked at Lorien. "I think Cullen is a little worried, what do you think, sister?"

"I wanna mabby," Lori responded.

A soft chuckle escaped Mahvir. "I think that is up to your _mamae_." He looked at Nimwen. "I have Lorien. Sorry I can't be much aid with the bags."

"I can help!" Vir straightened, eyes bright.

"We'll all help," Nimwen added. She looked down at Lorien. " _Da'len_ , you stay with Mahvir, all right?"

"Okay." Lorien nodded.

Mahvir looked out over the market, his eyes narrowed. Solas would have entered the city by now. This meant his spies would be combing the city for information about any ancient elvhen ruins. Mahvir shook his head and turned back to the wagon. Still holding Lorien, he limped after the others towards where they'd be staying.

The night passed as most did, with Mahvir haunted by images of the past instead of dreams. He had woken and moved out of his room. Instead of sleeping, he was in the main part of their chambers. A warm cup of strong, black tea rested beside his hand. A pair of spectacles on his face several lenses placed down to magnify the wooden wolf. He had pulled out several vials of paint and his brushes. The wolf was almost complete. Now, all that remained was painting it.

"Can't sleep?"

"Morning, Nimwen," Mahvir greeted her without looking away from his work. He dipped the brush into a tan colored paint before moving the tip in careful motions over the wood.

He heard Nimwen take a seat across from him. "It looks wonderful," she said. "Are those the colors you're painting it?"

Mahvir looked up at her. He moved several switches on the spectacles so he could see her. Then he glanced at the paints. There were several, three of which were used for the mouth of the wolf which opened.

"Yes." He lifted the cup of tea and took a careful sip of the warm liquid.

Nimwen raised a brow. "You like tea?"

He smiled around the cup before he lowered it. "I like _strong,_ black teas, yes. Though, I understand the shock." Mahvir chuckled. "Try to feed Solas this and his face would twist into one of complete horror and disgust."

Nimwen bowed her head as she snorted. "Happy to see you're on my side," she grinned. "Let's hope Lori likes it. He'll be outnumbered."

"I doubt Lorien will like tea, sadly she will take more after Solas in such matters. I fear the love of tea has a requirement of not being a dreamer in this family."

"I suppose-wait, what?" Nimwen blinked. "What did you say?"

" _Ir abelas_." Mahvir winced. "I sometimes forget you're knowledge of Solas's side of the family is limited. Lorien will inherit Solas's ability to enter the Fade as she dreams. Most elvhen of our bloodline would be considered dreamers in this day in age. Since the Fade was as natural as the wind during that time, it is natural Lorien would have a stronger connection to it given her father is an ancient elf." Mahvir paused then sighed. "She comes from the oldest line of elvhen if you must know."

Nimwen stared silently at Mahvir, as if taking this all in. Then, she reached over and grabbed his cup of tea, taking a gulp before setting it back down. " _Ir abelas_ , I needed that," she sighed. She looked at Mahvir, gaze serious. "Tell me what I need to know. I've heard of the dangers Dreamer children face, and I need to know what I can do to help her."

"I can't tell you," Mahvir stated as he set down the paint brush. "I know little of the Fade in this age, Nimwen. I've always been the outcast of our family. In this day in age, I am little better than a tranquil. " He folded his hands together. "What I can tell you, is that Solas will most likely be back in Lorien's life by the time she awakens to her gifts. He will be able to guide her. And you can still aid her through the use of Lyrium to enter the Fade. I fear my familiarity with this subject is lacking. I can search for more answers if you so wish, but it will take a few hours for me to gather the information for you."

" _Ma serannas._ You've done so much for us as it is," Nimwen replied. She glanced down at the toy wolf and a small smile graced her lips. "She will love it. A golden wolf. I don't think I've ever seen such a thing before."

"Shame. There was a pack of multicolored wolves I once saw. The one of pure white was the most beautiful to behold." Mahvir sighed and looked at the toy as well. "For what it's worth, you are family, Nimwen. I will do what I can while I can." He looked back at her. "Understand, before Solas and I had our differences, our family was very close. While he and his brother butted heads a lot, they were still close. There are only two people I know of who manage to make Elgar'nan smile and they are Mythal and Solas. Though, now, Elgar'nan would be more likely to behead Solas if they ever met again and the same would go for Solas trying to behead Elgar'nan." He smiled at Nimwen. "You could have chosen a less complex family to become a part of," he teased.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" she teased. She stood up. "I'm going to check on Lori. Creators know, she's probably up already ready to tear the inn apart." As she walked passed him, she patted his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

Mahvir looked at the toy. "The fun, indeed." He shook his head and clicked the lenses back into place. If she actually met the others… Perhaps, it was for the best. While they weren't the monsters Solas viewed them as, they also weren't the saints the People worshiped either. They were like anyone else, only ancient, powerful, and locked in their ways. "Much like Solas and I are locked into ours," he whispered.

Yes, in the end he was too old as well to change his ways. Solas cared about people, he always would and always had. It was this which would aid Nimwen in convincing him to stop this madness. This and the fact before too long he would met his daughter.

Mahvir's hand froze mid stroke. His heart twisted in jealousy but not towards his half-sister. He had seen all his half siblings receive love and acceptance to no longer care they did and he remained forgotten. It was a jealousy towards Solas and the fact Solas had a family. Yet, Mahvir couldn't complain either. He had raised many of the People.

The emotion eased back becoming a echo in the past. Yes, he had all he needed. One such child lived here in the city and- Mahvir shut out the images of the future. He didn't want to see it again. The dull reminder he remained unaffected by the quickening the Veil had caused.

He started to pick up his mess so Lorien wouldn't see the wolf. He had just finished wrapping the wolf when Nimwen reappeared with Lorien. "Good morning, Princess Lorien," Mahvir greeted her. He was still wearing his funny spectacles.

"What those? You look funny," Lorien giggled as she tried squirming out of Nimwen's hold. The girl still wore her nightgown and her long hair was like a yellow tumbleweed atop her head.

"All the better to see you by." Mahvir smiled at her. "In truth, they help with my work." He removed the glasses and tucked them into a wooden case he had made.

"I try?" Lorien asked, hands outstretched.

"I fear not, Princess. Not unless you don't want your birthday gift completed."

Lorien gasp, eyes wide. "What's it? What's it?"

"Now, Lori, it's not much of a surprise if he tells you," Nimwen reminded her.

"I wanna know, big brother!"

Mahvir placed a figure over his lips. " _Ir abelas_ , Princess. The wait is what makes gifts great."

Lori pouted. "No fair."

"Calm down, _da'len_. Now, let's try and tame this beast," Nimwen said, no doubt referring to the girl's tangled hair.

Mahvir chuckled. "I wish you luck, Nimwen." He lifted the tea cup and stood. "I am going to get another cup, would you like one as well?" Mahvir asked with a look at Nimwen.

"I would, _ma serannas_ ," the woman replied, pulling a comb from her robe pocket.

"All right." Mahvir moved to where the pot was. The tea was still warm, not as hot as it had been when he had first made it, but still warm enough not to be nasty. He pulled out another cup and poured the tea into it. He was careful not to spill any as he limped back over to the table. "Here you are." He placed the cup before Nimwen.

"Thanks." Nimwen was focused on getting the comb through Lori's hair, which was proving to be a difficult task. She tried working at a tangle when Lori let out a high pitched shriek.

" _Mamae_ ,that hurt!" Lorien screeched. The child tried to flee from her mother's lap, but was stopped just in time.

"Oh, no, you don't" Nimwen said. "We're getting this mess taken care of one way or another."

"But it huuuurt," Lorien moaned.

"It will hurt more if you don't stay still." Nimwen took hold of the comb, still stuck in Lorien's hair, and attempted to dislodge it."Mercy, _da'len_ , how did you get it so tangled?"

Mahvir watched the pair. He had been about to say he could use time magic to untangle Lorien's hair, but instead he took a sip of his tea. Nimwen's experiences with time magic hadn't been a good one and he would rather not mention the fact he distorted time on the way here. Let alone say he could untangle Lorien's hair within moments without it hurting.

It was a gruelling endeavor, but through her own willpower, and two cups of tea, Nimwen managed to comb Lorien's mane and keep the toddler still, all with one arm. "All right, Lori, you're free to go," Nimwen chuckled.

Immediately Lorien leapt from the chair. Her hair whipped behind her as she raced over to Mahvir. "Hair pretty now," she grinned, shaking her locks to prove it.

"Yes, your hair is as strands of gold shimmering in the candle light, Princess Lorien." Mahvir bowed to her. He straightened and looked at Nimwen. "If you braided her hair before she fell asleep it would make combing her hair easier in the morning."

"That's what I use to do," Nimwen explained. "Now, it's a tad...out of my range." Her eyes flicked to her left arm, the sleeve half empty as the hook had yet to be put on.

"My apologies." Mahvir bowed his head. He stood. "I'll see to breakfast." He limped off back into the small kitchen like space which had come with the rooms they'd gotten.

An hour later he returned with a plate for Nimwen and one for Lorien. The food was eggs and breakfast meats.

"I'm not the best cook, but here you are." He handed her the plate. "And one for you as well, Princess." He smiled at Lorien.

"Oh, you didn't have to," Nimwen smiled. " _Ma serannas_. Lori, what do we say?"

" _Ma serannas,_ Mahvy," Lori said as she stabbed into a sausage.

"It was no problem. My apologies if it tastes terrible, I know I am not the best cook in the world. When the others wake there should be enough for them as well." He returned to his seat with a fresh cup of tea.

Nimwen took a bite of the eggs and her eyes widened. "Are you mad? This is delicious."

"Yummy!" Lori said. Her cheeks resembled that of a chipmunk's.

" _Ma serannas_." Mahvir bowed his head and looked at the dark liquid of the tea. He wondered if they were just humoring him. Whenever he ate the food he made, it tasted just as terrible as any other food.

"Oooooh, I smell sausage!" Franne said sing-song as she waddled in. She still wore her night dress, which only made her swollen belly even more pronounced. "I hope you saved some for me."

Mahvir covered his head so he couldn't see her. "There is plenty for everyone," he stated. It hadn't been so bad when Lorien was in her nightgown, she was a child and his sister, but this… He could feel his ears burning already. It wasn't proper or right especially considering she was a married woman.

"Great," the redhead said.

"Where's Cullen?" Nimwen asked.

"Right here." The commander entered the room scratching his head. For once, he was out of his armor and red coat, instead sporting a simple white shirt and dark trousers. "Thought I should join the rest and- Franne, what are you doing?"

"Getting breakfast," she replied on her way to the kitchen.

"You're not even dressed," Cullen sighed, following her.

"Food comes first, Noodle."

"Those two are something else," Nimwen chuckled when the pair left.

With Franne out of the room, Mahvir lowered his hand. "She's worse than Andruil," he muttered. "No, apologies, better," he corrected, remembering once Andruil had decided to come out of her room naked back during the First War. It had been a show to try and get Solas interested. All it had done was make Solas's face go red and him avert his gaze telling her to put on clothes.

"I'm sure she'd get a kick out of being compared to Andruil," Nimwen smirked. "For all her strangeness, I'm glad she and Cullen found each other. He's been happier these past few years, I can tell. Not to mention Franne is sure to always keep things interesting."

"True. She seems nice enough." Mahvir set down his empty glass. "If it isn't too much to ask," he changed the subject, "I would love to meet Dagna today."

Nimwen's eyes brightened. "Truly?"

"Dag Dag?" Lorien perked up.

Mahvir chuckled. "Truly."

"It will be so good to see her again. She and Harret opened their shop in the market, it shouldn't be too hard to find."

"That is good news."

Vir walked into the room and glanced back down the hall. "That human knows she's still in her night clothes, right?"

Mahvir averted his gaze once more. His ears felt as fire.

"That human currently has sausage, and does not care about your opinion," Franne smirked as she waltzed back into the room.

"You could have at least put your robe on," Cullen said.

"You people act like I'm walking around in my small clothes." Franne looked to Nimwen. "Back me up, Nimmy."

"You do what you want, Franne," Nimwen chuckled.

"See, Cull? Nim's got my back."

The commander shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

The couple joined the elves at the table and set their plates down.

"This sausage is amazing," Franne beamed.

"Mahvir made it," Nimwen said.

"Really?" The redhead reached over and gave Mahvir a slap on the back. "Thanks for the grub. You're a real chef."

Mahvir almost face planted into the table from her slap. He winced with the echo of the pain. "My thanks, Captain," he stated in even tones still not looking towards her.

Vir sat down at the table as well, his eyes narrowed.

"Where's your food, Mahvir?" Nimwen asked, with a tone that said _'Don't think you're not eating.'_

Mahvir sighed and stood. Before he could make to get a plate Vir leapt to his feet.

"I'll get you a plate." The sentinel raced into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a plate.

Mahvir scowled. "I still have one good leg, _da'len_."

Vir flushed a little, but didn't otherwise react. He placed the plate before Mahvir.

"You should eat too, Vir," Nimwen told the sentinel.

Vir flushed a brighter shade of red and glanced at Mahvir.

A small sigh escaped Mahvir. The boy was still stuck in the old ways, this much was clear by the fact he had brought Mahvir the food.

"I'm good," Vir stated.

Mahvir looked at the plate. He took a deep breath before he started to eat it. Food tasted just as bad as normal, every flavor intensified. It clung to his tongue and was enough to make anyone never want to eat again. His cooking was the worst.

"Uncle Cullen, Aunt Franne," Lorien said to the pair. "We go see Dag Dag!"

"Dagna?" Cullen raised a brow. "Ah, yes, didn't she open a shop here?"

"That's what I heard, good for her," Franne said.

"Would you two like to come? I'm sure Dagna would love to see you," Nimwen said.

Cullen shook his head. "Apologies, Inquisitor, but we promised my family we'd meet with them. Trust me when I say cancelling on Mia would prove to be the end of me."

"Understandable, family first," Mahvir stated. He managed to finish the last bit of the food knowing Nimwen would keep telling him to eat it as if he were a child and not wanting to have such a conversation happen before others.

"I can't wait to meet them," Franne grinned. "All those cute nieces and nephews of yours, and I'm sure Mia and Rosalie will have plenty of embarrassing stories to tell me."

"Maker's Mercy," Cullen sighed with a look of regret.

Franne giggled and took his hand. "Oh, hush, love. It'll be fun."

"I'll make sure Brandon brings out the drink," he muttered.

"There are always worse family reunions out there," Mahvir stated. "At least your family isn't trying to kill one another. That would be a reunion to run from." Or towards as he was going to do with Solas.

A look passed over Nimwen's face, but then she was back to smiling. "How about Lori and I take the plates to the kitchen and then I'll get her dressed?" she suggested. She stood and collected hers, Lori's, and Mahvir's plates and headed for the kitchen. "Come, _da'len_ , you can help me wash."

"Bubbles!" Lorien squealed as she followed her mother.

Perhaps he shouldn't have spoken. Mahvir stood. "Excuse me." He bowed to the humans before limping after Nimwen. He stopped and decided better of it. Instead he turned and returned to his rooms to collect what was needed for meeting Dagna.

Mahvir waited for Nimwen outside the inn. Vir beside him, standing in silence and looking as a guard. Mahvir had tried to get the boy to relax, but Vir was still new to this time and he didn't trust humans that much. It didn't help matters he still viewed Mahvir as the god who saved the boy from death centuries ago.

"Ready to go, everyone?" Nimwen asked. She wore a light blue tunic and now had her prosthetic on. She carried Lorien on her hip, and the child wore a mint green dress and pigtails, courtesy of Franne, with ribbons that matched her dress.

"You two look lovely." Mahvir smiled at them. "I am ready when you are." He turned his staff in his gloved hand. He started forward, placing a little more weight on the staff than normal. The morning cooking and moving without the staff had aggravated his leg a little.

"All right, let's go," Nimwen said, taking the lead.

Mahvir fell in behind her. The Denerim market was just as lively as he remembered it being. Their band drew the gaze of several humans, most eyed Nimwen and Vir for their tattooed faces while others were more interested in the fancy clothes Lorien and Nimwen wore. Mahvir seemed to meld into the backs of their minds, passing as a normal, poor elvhen from the alienage.

"Let's see, it should be around here," Nimwen muttered as she scanned the buildings. "She said it was near the well and...oh! There it is." Nimwen pointed her hook at one of the buildings.

It was an unassuming place, the most notable thing being the brightly colored sign above the door. It was a large circle painted to look like rainbow-colored stained glass, with an anvil in the center. Below it hung the name of the store, bright red letters that spelled out Overcroft.

Mahvir smiled. "Shall we?" he asked.

The elves entered the shop. A bell tinkled with the opening of the door. The inside of the store smelled of metal and smoking wood, and had an inviting air to it.

The man standing behind the counter looked up at their entrance. "What can I do for- Maker's breath, Inquisitor?"

"Harret," Nimwen smiled.

The blacksmith came out from behind the counter. "Never thought I'd find you here, your Worship," he laughed, his hand outstretched.

Nimwen put Lorien down and shook Harret's hand. "Where would I be without my favorite blacksmith?"

"Run through and in ugly armor," Harret smirked. He bent down before Lorien. "Nice to see you again, little Lady."

"Hi," Lorien waved.

Harret looked up at Mahvir and Vir. "Who are these two?"

"This is Mahvir, and Vir," Nimwen explained.

"You two brothers?"

Vir's ears face turned bright red. "N-no," he stammered.

Before the boy could continue, Mahvir explained, "The similarities in the name is only from our language. My name means tomorrow, his is path."

"Huh, I suppose that make sense. I don't know much about elf language myself."

"Is Dagna in the shop, Harret?" Nimwen asked.

"Where else would she be?" The blacksmith turned his head. "Dagna, come out here!" he yelled.

"Coming!" There was a series of crashes, hissing, and what sounded like thunder, before a dwarven woman in goggles and an apron came out from the back. "Sorry just doing some adjustments," she said as she removed her goggles. Her eyes widened when she saw Nimwen. "Inquisitor!" The goggles were dropped to the floor as the dwarf raced over to hug the elf.

"It's good to see you Dagna," Nimwen smiled.

"It's fantastic to see you," Dagna replied with an even bigger smile. "How long have you been in Denerim? What do you think of the shop, like the name? I thought it fit since I spent so long in the Undercroft, and now my shops above ground, get it? Are you here to place an order? Oh, wait, who's this-?"

"One question at a time, Dagna," Nimwen said, hand raised. "But, to start, this is Mahvir, and Vir."

"Nice to meet you both," said Dagna. She took both their hands and shook them at the same time.

"And you, Arcanist." Mahvir bowed his head to her. "To clarify, I am Mahvir. The one with the flushed ears is Vir."

Vir turned a deeper shade of red.

"Nice to meet you both. Wait, I said that already, didn't I?" she laughed.

"You did, but it is nice to be greeted twice." Mahvir smiled. He liked her enthusiasm. It was rather refreshing.

"Mahvir here is quite the inventor as well," Nimwen said.

Dagna's eyes lit up. "Oh, really? What do you make?"

"I am a toy maker," Mahvir stated.

"Oh, that's wonderful," she sighed. "Anytime I try to make toys, they tend to set on fire," she smiled sheepishly.

"Woodwork is very different from metalwork. I admit I've never dabbled in metalwork when it comes to toys. All the pieces I use are wood or string. Though, setting toys on fire would unsafe for the children, admittedly."

"True, I'm better suited making the toys that her Worship and her soldiers could make use of. By toys, I mean weapons."

"I figured as much." Mahvir knew the woman was a little absentminded. "Did you receive my letter, Arcanist?"

Dagna cocked her head to the side. "Letter? What let- oh, you mean the letter!" she gasped.

At this Mahvir smiled and bowed his head. "Yes."

"What was that letter about anyways?" Nimwen asked.

"That, Nimwen, is a secret." Mahvir placed a finger over his lips.

Nimwen rolled her eyes. "Very well, keep your secret."

"Hey, Widdle, I'm home!"

Everyone looked up as a blur of yellow and red swung in through the window. The blur did a roll, then stood to reveal itself as an elvhen woman with a large sack on her back. "I got the junk you needed," she said to Dagna. She proceeded to dump out the bag onto the floor, revealing its contents as scrap metal.

"Oh, thank you," Dagna gushed. The dwarf eyed the scrap metal as if it were a plate of desserts.

"Aunt Sera!" Lorien rushed over to the woman and hugged her legs.

"What's this?" Sera gasped. "Lil' Inky!" She scooped up the girl and peppered her cheek with kisses. "How's my favorite squirt doin'?"

"Good," Lorien laughed.

"And, look, it's mama Inky," Sera grinned at Nimwen.

"Hello to you too, Sera."

"Who'er these two?" asked Sera.

"I am called Mahvir." Mahvir bowed his head to Sera. "This is Vir."

Vir eyed Sera.

Mahvir sighed then smiled and held out his hand to Sera. "I've heard much of your exploits as Red Jenny from the servants. It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

"What's this Solas look-alike doin' with you, 'quisitor?" the elven woman asked.

Nimwen sputtered. "Yes, well…"

"I suppose my appearance has been compared to worse." Mahvir chuckled.

"Wow, he does look a lot like Solas," Dagna agreed, eyeing Mahvir with wide eyes.

"Really, I just wanna shave his head to see if he's got the egg head too," the elf woman said.

"I have had my head shaved. I don't wish to repeat the experience, thank you." Mahvir withheld a shudder at the memory of his time as a slave to the Imperium.

"But do you have the egg though?" Sera asked.

"Do I look more like Solas with my head shaved? I don't care to know. And I doubt he would appreciate the fact I am being compared to him by his old comrades." Well, Mahvir supposed this was better than being compared to Elgar'nan.

"So, what brings you to the city?" Sera asked, leaning against the wall.

"Mahvir wanted to meet Dagna."

Sera raised a brow. "What for?"

"Just talk between fellow inventors," Dagna responded.

"He's a tinker man too?" asked Sera.

"As in I create toys for children through minor enhancements and woodwork, yes." Mahvir managed a smile, but he knew the subject of his blood father was far from dropped when it came down to Red Jenny. If he had gathered anything about her from _All this Shit is Weird_ and from his People, it was the fact if she found an elfy-elf's button she would continue to press at it.

"So, you're like Thom?" A small smile came to Sera's face. "He used to always carve stuff for the kiddies at Skyhold."

"Have you heard from him lately?" Nimwen asked.

"Think he's in the Free Marches, but I don't know," Sera shrugged.

Mahvir shifted at being compared to Thom. Given what he knew about the man it wasn't too far removed from the truth about his own past. He had misused power in his past as well. "I wouldn't say my toys are the same, but in a manner of speaking." He turned to Dagna. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to test the theory I sent you in the letter, Arcanist."

"Oh, yes, of course," Dagna nodded. She turned to Nimwen. "I hope you don't mind, your Worship. It's going to be a lot of technical talk that I'm sure you and Lady Lorien wouldn't be interested in."

"That's fine," Nimwen said.

"Say, 'quisitor, there's a sweets shop down the road. Why don't I take you and lil Inky there and we can catch up?"

"Cake?" Lori asked, eyes hopeful.

Mahvir tried not to make a face at the mention of sweets. "Shall we, Arcanist?" He bowed to Dagna.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

"...and then he ran out with just his hat!"

Nimwen shook her head. "You're insane, you know that, right?"

"Of course I am. I followed you, didn't I?" Sera grinned around her beer.

They left the Overcroft and went to the sweets shop Sera mentioned. Lori and Sera both got slices of strawberry cake while Nimwen bought a cherry tart. At first the man at the counter was apprehensive about the three elves in his shop. Nimwen feared she would have to use her pull as the former Inquisitor, but as it turned out, that was unneeded. The baker noticed Sera and then scolded his worker, then got the women their treats.

"Helped him when the tax collectors were shakin' him down," Sera explained.

The elves now sat outside enjoying the warm afternoon.

"So ,I gotta ask," Sera began. "That Mahvir, what's his story?"

Nimwen sighed. She had a feeling this would come. "Well-"

"He my brother!" Lori cut in.

Nimwen stammered. "W-well, there you go."

The rogue's eyes grew wide. "Come again?"

"What if I told you I recently discovered Solas had a son?"

Sera's jaw dropped. "No."

"It's true."

"Nooooooo way," Sera leaned back in her chair. "Nooo way a son-a kid?! Well, another one at least. Andraste's tits, how are you not insane right now?"

"I've had a while to adjust to the idea," Nimwen shrugged.

"No, no, no, you don't _adjust_ to this. Solas had a kid, a grown ass kid! And he didn't say anything! How are you so calm?"

"To be honest, it's not like Solas hid him from me on purpose. Actually...he doesn't even know," Nimwen explained.

"So, you mean to tell me that he has two kids, and doesn't know about _either_ of them?"

"Correct."

Sera blinked. "I gotta ask, 'quisitior. How did a smart person like you get someone so daft?"

"He's not daft, just...oblivious to certain things," Nimwen said quietly. She poked her tart with her fork. "And I'm not angry about Mahvir. He's a sweet man and I'm happy he's apart of our lives."

"He the best brother," Lori added, her face smeared with pink frosting.

"That he is," Nimwen agreed, cleaning her daughter's face. "So, I would appreciate it if you were nice to him."

"All right, all right, I'll behave. He's is kinda your son, yeah? He is, right? How does that work exactly?"

Nimwen stiffened. She, herself wasn't quite sure where she stood with Mahvir. They had a good friendship, but Nimwen couldn't deny she had started to grow maternal affections for him. "He is Solas's son and Lori's half brother. If anything, I suppose I am his stepmother."

"That's so weird, you two look the same age," Sera chuckled.

' _Actually he's centuries older than me,'_ Nimwen mentally corrected the rogue. "Can we talk about something else?" she asked.

Sera scrunched her nose. "All right, like what?"

"How are things with Dagna?"

Pink dusted Sera's cheeks. "It's...it's been good," she said. "Widdle's like, well, she's the best. Better than I deserve, anyway."

"I'm happy for you two," Nimwen smiled. When she first found out about Dagna and Sera, she been caught off guard. However, she soon realized the two were a good match for one another, and was grateful her friends were able to find happiness with each other. "I'm sure you two drive Harret mad."

Sera grinned. "Coot's threatened to quit three times now, but he won't. He don't act like it, but he cares about Dag. They make a great team."

" _Mamae_ , more cake?" Lori asked.

"I think you've had enough," Nimwen said. She didn't want to think what would happen if Lori had any more sugar. Denerim would never recover.

"You two wanna head back to the 'croft? Make sure the two brainiacs haven't destroyed the place?"

Nimwen chuckled. "Very well."

The women threw away their scraps and made the short walk back to the Overcroft. They entered and were greeted once more by Harret.

"Where are they?" Nimwen asked.

"Dagna took your friends to the back," Harret replied, pointing to back of the shop. They walked around the corner and found a dingy metal door, and standing in front of it was Vir.

" _Aneth ara,_ Nimwen," stated the sentinel.

Before anyone could reply the door opened. Mahvir limped out of the room. He was wiping grease from his scarred fingers. "I see you've returned." He smiled at them. "Did you have fun, Princess Lorien?" he asked Lori as he slipped back on his tattered gloves.

"I had stawberry cake!" she grinned.

"Glad you enjoyed it, Princess."

Vir held out Mahvir's staff.

"My thanks, Vir." Mahvir took the staff and leaned against it. His dark eyes now on Nimwen. "Shall we head back to the front of the shop?" he asked.

"Did you two have fun?" Nimwen asked as they walked back to the front.

"It was enlightening. I do believe I will be coming back tomorrow." Mahvir gave her a small smile. "However, I did promise we would look for clues while here to where Solas will be moving next and that is far more important than my interest in Dagna's work."

"Do you have any leads?" Nimwen asked.

"There have been a few rumblings coming from the alienage, but I fear my contact within the walls only hears a little these days. Perhaps your friend here would know more of what is going on through her own contacts there." Mahvir bowed his head to Sera.

"I got some people there, though I don't really go in there myself," Sera explained. "If you're gonna talk to them, you should start with their leader. Think her name is Shianni."

"My thanks, Sera." Mahvir gave her a small smile. "I will wait for you outside, Nimwen." Mahvir limped from the shop.

Vir raced after him.

"I think I'll go with them," Nimwen said. She turned to Dagna and Sera. "Do you mind watching Lori for me?"

"We'd love to," Dagna happily agreed.

"Don't worry, we'll keep an eye on her." Sera winked.

"Make it two," Nimwen smirked. She knelt down in front of Lori. " _Da'len_ , be good for Aunt Sera and Aunt Dagna, okay?"

"Okay," Lori nodded.

Nimwen smiled. "That's my girl. _Dareth shiral_." She stood and exited the shop, where Mahvir and Vir waited.

Mahvir nodded and started off towards the alienage entrance. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. He passed through the open gates and led them across the bridge into the rundown part of the city.

The moment they entered an elf stepped out of the shadows. "Hey, you there." His eyes were locked on Nimwen. "You look like you got some coin to spare, right?"

Mahvir placed his staff between. "My apologies, _da'len_ , we have no coin."

The elf's eyes narrowed as he looked at Mahvir. "You ain't got none, but it clear she does."

Vir slid his dagger a little from the sheathe.

The elf backed off at once.

"Calm down, you two," Nimwen said to the men. She gently lifted up Mahvir's staff and stood in front of the man. She pulled out two silvers. "Spend these wisely," she told the man as she gave him the coins.

He shot a glare at Mahvir before racing off.

"He will be back for more, Nimwen. Such is his way. Small kindnesses here can turn to losing everything." Mahvir limped forward. "Such is the way of the alienages, where those with money are preyed upon by those who seek easy fortune."

"You may be right, but still. I'd rather be generous and deal with the aftermath, than turn away someone in need."

"I wish there were more people like you, Nimwen. Those who saw good in everyone no matter how little is actually there." Mahvir shook his head. He moved into the center of the alienage where a great tree grew. He stopped there and rested his hand against the tree, head bowed and eyes closed.

"The _vhenadahl_ ," Nimwen said quietly. "It's bigger than I expected a tree could grow in the city. And it's...quite beautiful." Nimwen eyed the bright painted patterns on the trunk, the ribbons tied to its branches. It was a bright beacon in the middle of this dingy place.

"The People never forget where they came from," Mahvir whispered as he stepped back. He turned his gaze to the houses.

A few of the elves had stopped what they were doing. They were eyeing Nimwen and Vir, whispering to one another.

"It would appear you two attract attention." Mahvir limped back over to them. "It should bring out the _hahren_ of this alienage at the very least."

"I can't wait to meet her," Nimwen said. She glanced at the elves staring at her. She wondered what it was that they were focused on. Her _vallaslin_? Her clothes? The fact she was an outsider?

"You are Dalish," Mahvir reminded her. "Dalish inspire great awe and fear within their city brethren." He turned his gaze on the crowd. "Ah, believe this is her coming now."

From the crowd came an elven woman, no older than thirty, with blood red hair and a determined gleam to her eyes. "What business do you have here?" she asked the group.

Mahvir stepped forward. "Afternoon, _Hahren_ Shianni," he bowed to her. "We seek information about another strange elf who might have passed through here a few days ago."

Shianni crossed her arms, eyeing the trio up and down. "I may be able to help, provided I know who it is I'm helping exactly."

Mahvir pulled out an old piece of parchment. He held it out to her.

She took the parchment and held it up to read. As her eyes scanned the words they slowly widened. "I see." She rolled up the parchment and returned it to Mahvir. "Come with me."

"My thanks, _Hahren_ Shianni." Mahvir fell in behind her.

" _Andaran atish'an, Hahren_ ," Nimwen said to the woman.

"I did not expect to meet two Dalish today," Shianni said.

"Life is the most interesting when one has something unexpected occur," stated Mahvir.

Vir raised an eyebrow, but didn't otherwise react to being called Dalish.

"Have you met many Dalish, _hahren_?" Nimwen asked.

"No, not many wish to come here," Shianni explained. "I've only ever met one other, and that was the Hero of Ferelden."

Nimwen blinked. "You met the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Aye. He saved our alienage from Tevinter slavers, and then later from the darkspawn when the archdemon attacked. They paint him up as some imposing figure, but honestly you couldn't find a kinder person. He had all that power and, yet, acted like he was no better than us."

Nimwen smiled. She'd always wished she could meet him. Another Dalish who helped Thedas in its hour of need. She doubted she'd ever meet him though, and the thought made her sad. Still, as she passed by the groups of elves on their way to what she assumed to be Shianni's house, seeing the people the Hero saved and the lives he changed brought her comfort.

"Come on in," Shianni said as she opened the door.

The house wasn't spacious when they entered. It was more one room which had been sectioned off into a main room and a bedroom with two beds. A fire was light in the hearth despite the warmth of the day. At first glance the room was empty. But then a soft movement drew Nimwen's eyes towards a chair by the fire.

A wizened elf sat hunched in the chair. One thin blanket was draped over his frail shoulders and another placed over his lap. He turned his gaze towards the door, eyes clouded and sightless with age.

"Did you find what was disrupting the others?" he asked, voice wispy though it still held a note of soft, kind authority to it.

"Yes, and we have visitors," Shianni answered gently.

"They shouldn't stay long in the doorway, come in." He gave them a weak smile. He looked too old to have more than a few months remaining to him. He lifted one gnarled hand and it shook with the effort.

Mahvir didn't move, his eyes locked on the man. There was pain reflected in his eyes now. It was more pain than Nimwen had ever seen on his face before. More pain than when he had been wounded or when something had upset him. He stood there looking at the wizened man as if frozen in the moment.

" _Andaran atish'an_ ," Nimwen said as they stepped inside.

"Are our visitors Dalish?" the man asked.

The words seemed to snap Mahvir out of whatever had fallen over him. He leaned his staff by the door and limped over to the elderly man. He knelt down before him.

"Valendrian," his voice was soft as he took the elderly elf's hand in his.

Valendrian's eyes widened. He lifted one hand and touched Mahvir's face. "You came back?" he whispered.

"I promised I would." Mahvir's voice was even, his words soft and kind. It sounded as if he were the father and the elder a son.

"You two know each other?" Nimwen asked, surprised.

"Yes," was all Mahvir told her.

"Valendrian was the _hahren_ before me," said Shianni.

Nimwen stepped forward to face the elderly man. "It's a pleasure to meet you, _hahren_. I am Nimwen of clan Lavellan.

"The Inquisitor?" Both of Valendrian's eyebrows rose and he turned his sightless gaze in her direction. "To what do we owe the privilege?" he asked.

"There is a person we seek, and we believe some of you here might be able to help us find him," Nimwen explained.

Valendrian looked in Shianni's direction. "That is a matter you must discuss with Shianni. I fear I haven't been out of this house in quite sometime." He doubled over, coughing.

A look of almost pure torment appeared on Mahvir's face.

"Don't give me that look," Valendrian rasped at Mahvir. "I don't need my sight to know your expression."

"Are you all right?" Nimwen asked.

"I am dying, child. Something we all go through." He turned his gaze back to Mahvir.

"Have you heard word of a man who calls himself Solas?" Nimwen asked.

"I am not sure," Shianni admitted. "But there have been whispers around the alienage. Talk of elves trying to bring back Arlathan. I hadn't given it much thought until a few of the elves here left without a word."

"When did this happen?" Nimwen asked.

"Not too long ago. Some say that a stranger arrived the day they left, but I do not recall such a person coming here."

"There are always those who will be swayed into leaving at the promise of a brighter future," Valendrian said.

"Thank you both." Mahvir stood and bowed his head to Shianni. "It is helpful."

Valendrian took Mahvir's hand. "Stay for a bit. It's been far too long."

A sad smile appeared on Mahvir's face. "As long as _Hahren_ Shianni sees no issue with it, I will."

"If Valendrian wants you here, you can stay," the redhead said.

Suddenly the door was flung open. " _Hahren_ , there's something you should see," a woman said.

"What is it?" asked Shianni.

"A woman and a child are yelling in the middle of the street."

"What?" Shianni followed the woman outside.

"I wonder what that's all about," Nimwen said. "You mind if I go check?"

"It's more than likely Sera and Lorien," Mahvir stated. "She does tend to run after you."

"No, no, that's not it," Nimwen laughed, hoping it wasn't true. She stepped outside and walked out to the square.

" _Mamae!_ "

"Inquisitor."

Nimwen's jaw dropped.

There it was, her daughter and Sera both yelling with their hands cupped around their mouths, looking for all intents and purposes like a pair of lunatics.

Nimwen stomped over to the pair. "What in the world are you doing here?"

"Look, we found her!" Sera cheered. Her smile dropped upon seeing the look on Nimwen's face.

Unaware, Lori bounded over to her mother and hugged her legs. " _Mamae!_ "

"Lorien Hylea Lavellan." Nimwen did not like yelling at her daughter. She did not like to seem angry in front of her daughter. So, it took all her willpower to keep both her face and tone at "stern and disapproving" instead of "frustrated and irritated."

"I told you to stay with Dagna and Sera at the shop."

Lori pouted. "I miss you."

"Kid took off and I had to chase her," Sera said. "She wanted to see you, so I thought might as well bring her."

Nimwen pinched her brow. "Of course you did."

"Inquisitor, do you know these people?" Shianni asked as she approached the trio.

Nimwen sighed. " _Harhen_ ,this is my daughter, Lorien, and my friend, Sera."

"Hi." Lori waved to the redhead.

"I see, would you like to bring them back to the house?"

Nimwen glanced around at the elves whose eyes were trained on them. "Yes, please," she said. She followed Shianni back to the house with Lori and Sera in tow. At first, the rogue made to leave, but Nimwen used her hook to grab Sera's shirt, and said as punishment for not keeping hold of Lori that she was to stay. They entered the house once more to see Mahvir and Valendrian just as they'd left them.

"You were right," Nimwen sighed.

"Hi, Mahvy!" Lori smiled.

"Lorien," Mahvir stated, tone even.

Valendrian gave a wizened chuckle. "You're tone says disapproval."

Mahvir cocked an eyebrow.

"You cocked an eyebrow, didn't you?" despite age there was a teasing note to Valendrian's voice. "You haven't changed, 'Toymaker.'"

"I am uncertain if that is an insult or a complement coming from you." Mahvir gave the elderly elf a weak smile.

"Come in," Valendrian told Lorien and Sera.

"Who you?" Lori asked.

"Manners, _da'len_ ," Nimwen gently reminded her. "This is Valendrian, he's a friend of Mahvir's."

"You know big brother?"

Valendrian gave a weak laugh. "It's quite all right, child," he told Nimwen. To Lori, he stated, "I know him."

"And this is Sera," Nimwen added .

The rogue made a small grumble in reply.

"You should all stay for dinner," Valendrian offered. "Though, by now I would hope you have tasted it, Mahvir is the best cook I know."

Mahvir shook his head. "You are just saying that because you want me to stay longer."

Valendrian looked up at Mahvir. "Ah, but you find all food tastes disgusting unless it's burnt then it tastes like ash."

Mahvir's ears went red.

Nimwen laughed. "You seem to know Mahvir quite well, _hahren_."

"Very well," Valendrian replied with a soft smile. He coughed, but the fit was less than the last time. His frail shoulders shook from the coughs.

Worry appeared again on Mahvir's face.

"If you don't mind having us, we'd love to stay for dinner," Nimwen said.

"Very well, I shall set extra seats," said Shianni.

Lori toddled over to Valendrian's chair and put her tiny hands on the arm rest. "Why your eyes white?" She asked

"Inquisitive little one, aren't you?" Valendrian touched Lori's hand. "I fear I am no longer able to see, child."

"Why?"

"Age has caught up with me," Valendrian gave Lori a small smile through his eyes didn't quite look towards her. "How old are you, Little One?"

"I two, but my birthday gonna be soon."

"Is that so. I imagine Mahvir has something special for you then." He lifted Lori off the ground and placed her on his lap.

The pain seemed to vanish from Mahvir's eyes. Instead there was a soft look there. He limped over to Shianni. "Would you like some help?" he asked.

"Can you stir stew?"

"I can." Mahvir moved to help Shianni, leaving Nimwen and Sera standing watching Valendrian and Lori.

"Mister, my _mamae_ has magic, ya know? She could make your eyes good."

Nimwen winced. "Sweetie, that's not how it works."

Valendrian smiled. "That is kind of you to mention, dear child, but I am fine."

Lori pouted. "I sorry 'bout your eyes." She hugged the elder around his neck.

"Thank you. Now, I wish to hear all about when this birthday of yours is." Valendrian gave Lori another of his soft smiles.

A warmth blossomed in Nimwen's chest. It was such a sweet sight, her daughter with the withered, elven man. It made Nimwen think of what it would have been like if Lori had been able to meet her grandfather, or her grandmother. Nimwen felt a twinge in her heart. She had been just a child when her parents passed. While she'd ensured Lori would grow up with at least one of her parents, Nimwen couldn't help but feel sad Lori wouldn't know the special bond Nimwen had with her own grandparents.

"It gonna be soon," Lori said. " _Mamae_ said I gonna get lotsa presents, but I gotta say 'thank you' to everyone, 'cause that's what nice people do. Oh! And _mamae_ said she'd make peach pie and Aunt Cass is gonna give me braids like hers and Aunt Lilly let me play with the nugs _all_ day!"

"Sounds like you will have a very special birthday." Valendrian didn't sound like he was teasing the girl. Instead there was a wisdom and patients in his voice which reminded Nimwen of Mahvir in some ways.

"Uh-huh. _Mamae_ even taught me how say three in elf. It _tan_ ," Lori said proudly.

"That so?" Valendrian place his hand on Lori's head. "You just taught an old one like me something new as well."

"I know lotsa elf words," Lori said excitedly. " _Adahl_ means tree, when someone does nice things you say ' _ma serannas_.' When you do bad things you say ' _ir abelas_ ,' and bye-bye is _dareth shiral_!"

Nimwen smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm. She heard Sera groan and gently kicked her shin before Lori could hear.

"You are a very bright child." Valendrian looked towards the steps where Mahvir was just coming down. Though it was hard to tell what he was thinking, there was a slight change in his lined face.

" _Mamae_ teach me lotsa stuff. She super smart." Lori turned to Nimwen. "Right, _mamae_?"

"Well, I don't know about _super_ smart," Nimwen said.

Lori's jaw dropped, like she were offended. "Nuh-uh, you super, _duper_ smart!"

"A child knows best," Valendrian said in almost solemn tones.

"Explains why you were chased through the city as one," Mahvir chuckled.

"I'm sensing a story there," Nimwen smirked.

"Mahvy you super, duper smart too," Lori said to her brother.

"My thanks, Lorien, but I believe that is up for debate."

Valendrian shook his head.

"You smart! Why no one believe me?" Lori pouted. She turned to Valendrian. "They ridicus."

"They're trying to be humble, little one. I-" he broke off into a coughing fit.

Mahvir paused in gathering a few items.

"You 'kay?" Lori asked her voice filled with worry.

Valendrian pulled the handkerchief from his face. "I'm fine," his voice was hoarse.

Lori patted the elder's chest with her palm. "There, there," she said.

Mahvir limped back to the stairs and vanished up them.

" _Hahren_." Shianni came downstairs, a vial in her hand. "I have your tonic right here."

"Thank you, Shianni, you are too kind." He took the tonic with her aid.

"Let me know if you want something for the pain as well," Shianni said.

"This is fine." Valendrian gave Shianni one of the soft smiles Nimwen had seen him giving most people since first meeting him.

Mahvir reappeared. "The stew is done," he informed Shianni.

"Sera and I can help if you need to set up," Nimwen offered.

"We will?"

" _Yes_ ," Nimwen said to the rogue. " _Hahren_ , do you mind keeping an eye on Lori?" she asked Valendrian.

"I can promise to keep her here. I like to hear more about these nugs she mentioned," he assured Nimwen.

"They soooooo cute!" Lori gushed.

While the girl started to tell Valendrian about nugs, the group moved to set up for dinner. Shianni went upstairs to help Mahvir gather the food while Nimwen and Sera set up the table in the main room. They had been instructed to move the table over where Valendrian sat so the elder wouldn't have to move. Soon the table was set and a pot was brought filled with steaming stew, though it didn't smell like there was any meat in it.

"What in it?" Lori asked as she tried peering into the pot.

"We've got carrots and potatoes and...more carrots," Shianni said as she started ladling stew into the bowls.

"Thank you, _Hahren_ Shianni." Mahvir took a set at the table, but didn't make to start eating.

Nimwen was about to take a bite, but paused when she saw Mahvir, Sera, Shianni, and Valendrian fold their hands and bow their heads.

"Maker, in the Golden City, and holy Andraste, we thank you for this meal and pray for your grace and mercy," said Shianni. "May you bless us and all we hold dear. In Andraste's name we pray, amen."

"Amen," the others repeated.

Nimwen felt like the odd duck out. She didn't know what to do aside from watch them. She noticed Vir also looked as awkward as she did. She glanced over and saw to her dismay Lori had already started eating, oblivious to the prayer. Nimwen hoped nobody would notice.

"Okay, dig in," Shianni said as they lifted their heads.

Mahvir looked at Nimwen and mouthed an apology for not warning her. He then started to eat the meal placed before him.

The stew was simple, but enjoyable. It actually reminded Nimwen a bit of the food she ate back with her clan, and a sense of nostalgia fell over her. "So, Mahvir," Nimwen began. "I am curious, how did you and _hahren_ Valendrian come to meet?"

Valendrian blinked. His sightless eyes rested on Shianni.

"It is all right, it's her choice to believe the history or not," Mahvir told Valendrian.

Valendrian bowed his head.

"I met him when he was younger than Lorien," Mahvir started. "His parents had provoked their Orlesian masters and were killed. He was left alone."

"Mahvir found me and took me in," Valendrian finished.

"Hold on, he took _you_ in?" Sera repeated. She looked at Mahvir. "Just how old are you?"

Mahvir took a deep breath. "Old."

"It's a long story," Nimwen explained.

Sera gave her an exasperated look. "Why do you attract all the weird?"

Nimwen shrugged. "I guess it's my nature."

"Mahvy help you?" Lori asked.

"He raised me like your mother is you," Valendrian explained to Lori.

"Through all the bumps that parenthood brings with rebellious children bent on bringing Maker only knows down around their ears," Mahvir managed to tease though his tone wasn't as light as it normally would have been.

"But Mahvy not old," Lori said.

Nimwen sighed. How could she explain this to a child? "Mahvir is...special, Lori."

"Special?" The toddler cocked her head. "How come?"

"It's more a curse." Mahvir then hissed in pain.

Valendrian smiled, but this one was more a sly smile. "Glad to know I remember which leg to hit."

Nimwen snickered. "I take it this happened before?"

"He is self destructive sometimes," Valendrian stated.

"No more so than you were," Mahvir muttered.

"What he do?" Lori asked.

"No." Valendrian looked towards Mahvir.

"You were the one to start it."

"You're the one acting like a child."

"I can act the age I look."

"No."

"Boys, boys, let's all get along now," Nimwen chuckled.

"Whoa, calm down, mum, are you going to send them to their rooms with no dessert?" Sera teased.

"If they keep it up, maybe."

"Maker's mercy, is this what's it's like to have kids?" Shianni asked.

"If you count kids as two old men, then, yes," Mahvir stated. Mahvir's expression turned to worried in an instant.

Valendrian started to laugh but it turned into a coughing fit.

"Are you all right, _hahren_?" asked Shianni. "Should I fetch more tonic?"

"No," he wheezed a little.

Mahvir closed his eyes beside Nimwen. If she hadn't been so close she would have missed the sudden tightness of his shoulders or the fact the spoon he held shook in his hand.

Shianni looked unconvinced. "Are you sure? I think you should take them."

"I'm just a little tired."

Mahvir placed his spoon in the empty bowl. "Then we will help clean up and take out leave," he stated. "Thank you for dinner, _Hahren_ Shianni."

"Yes, _ma serannas_ ," Nimwen said.

" _Ma serannas_ ," Lori added.

By the time the group finished helping Shianni clean up, Valendrian had fallen asleep in his chair.

"Thank you again, _Hahren_ Shianni," Mahvir stated. He glanced towards Valendrian then bowed his head to Shianni and left the house without another word.

Vir followed Mahvir out.

"I apologize, Inquisitor, that we could not help you find who you were looking for," Shianni apologized.

"It's fine," Nimwen assured her. "Regardless, it was a pleasure to meet you and Valendrian. I had never been to one of the alienages before, and am glad I have."

A look akin to surprise flashed over Shianni's face. "Glad the Dalish have interest in us." The redhead bowed. "You are always welcome here."

" _Ma serannas_." Nimwen turned. "You two ready?"

"Yup," said Sera, who was holding Lori.

"All right then. _Dareth shiral, hahren_."

Shianni seemed to hesitate, but then she said, " _Dareth shiral_."

Nimwen and Sera joined Vir and Mahvir outside. "You two ready to go?" asked Nimwen.

Vir looked to her, but Mahvir didn't seem to hear her. The older elf was leaning against his staff, gaze locked unseeing on the distance. "Four months," Mahvir whispered.

"What?" Nimwen asked.

Mahvir didn't move.

" _Hahren_." Vir touched Mahvir's shoulder.

Mahvir looked at him, his eyes glistened in the light of the late afternoon sun. He then blinked and his eyes returned to looking the normal dark color. "My apologies, Nimwen." He bowed his head to Nimwen. "We can head back."

Nimwen held her tongue. She would not let this go, and she would press Mahvir about it. But, not here, not in the open and with all these witnesses. So, instead she nodded and followed Mahvir out of the alienage.

Mahvir seemed to move a little slower than normal on their way back. They had stopped at the shop and he had spoken briefly to Dagna before they headed for the inn. When they arrived Mahvir started towards his room without a word to Nimwen or Lori.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

Mahvir sat up in the main room of their chambers. The soft candle light flickered over the gifts to Lorien he had been working on most of the night. His mind felt numb to it all. He kept replaying the moments of yesterday over and over in his mind. He had known going in he would see one of his children again. That he would see said child old and dying, and yet, despite this knowledge and the feeling of horror going in, he now felt as if his heart was being ripped out with each new beat it took.

Another child? How could he live past another one? No, he had to hold to the hope Solas would kill him in the end battle.

His hand slipped the knife sliced through his glove and finger. Blood dripped to the table. For a moment, Mahvir just watched the blood; then, he closed his hand, balling it into a fist. He didn't feel the wound. Physical pain was nothing to one who had known it all his life. It was the pain of heart which ripped him apart, tormented him and haunted him each time he closed his eyes. His body could be turned to ash and such pain would never compare.

His hand shook. Then, he unclenched it. "No," he whispered to himself. "Focus on what needs to be done." The words rang hollow in his ears.

Four months. Four months and if Solas didn't kill him, if Solas didn't take his power, then Mahvir would witness again one of his children passing before him. His eyes burned with tears he knew wouldn't come. He had cried silently most of the night until the images had been all which were left and his tears had run dry.

He stared at his hand for a long moment before he wrapped the wound so he could continue working. The rhythmic motions of carving helped his mind go blank.

The wolf stood in the center of the table, complete. Now he was working on a puzzle. He had started it out of remembering Lorien saying she wanted one and remembering how much Valendrian had- no, he _still_ loved puzzles.

The knife slipped again. The sharp blade struck his other hand. A soft growl of frustration came from Mahvir. He was on his feet and the sound of him striking the vials of paint filled the air as he let out all his frustration in a scream. The vials of paint struck the ground, shattering.

Why?! Why did he get eternity?!

He glared at the toy wolf, eyes burning. Blood tapped against the floor from his wounded hand. More cuts laced it from a night spent trying to carve out his pain. Each time he had thought on his son, he had missed and hit his hand. Over and over.

Why him?

"Mahvir?!" Footsteps pounded and soon a hand was on his shoulder. "What happened, are you all right?"

"Fine, Nimwen," Mahvir stated, though his voice felt just as hollow as he felt right then.

"No, you're not." Nimwen's voice was firm, but mostly concerned. "You haven't been since we went to the alienage. Talk to me."

Mahvir stated at the wood shavings and blood on the table. "He's dying," he whispered. How was he supposed to feel when watching another of his children whither and die while he remained twenty-five?

"Is everything all right in here?"

"We're fine, Cullen," Nimwen lied. "Mahvir cut his hand, that's all."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, we're fine."

The sound of Cullen closing the door was followed by silence.

Without a word Nimwen took Mahvir's injured hand in her's. A soft green light emanated from her palm as she used her magic to start healing the cuts. " _Ir abelas_ ," she murmured. "I can't imagine how you feel, nor do I know what I can do to help."

"The only thing which would help is to die, for once, before one of my children did," he stated, then gave Nimwen a weak smile. " _Ir abelas_ , Nimwen." He slipped his half healed hand from hers. "I'll be fine." He knelt down and started to clean up the mess on the floor.

"You want to die?" There was disbelief and horror in her eyes. But mostly pain.

Mahvir stopped cleaning. "I've lived for over eighty centuries, Nimwen. In the past twenty, I have raised many children and watched them age and die while I remain unchanged by the passage of time, locked forever in the moment when my _gift_ was unlocked by…" he stopped. "I am tired, Nimwen. I fear eternity and know it is all which awaits me. I can't die."

"I'm...sorry." The tears that pearled in the corners of her eyes now spilled down her cheeks, caught by her hand. "I can't-but I don't...no, I _do_ get it. All these years, everyone around me is leaving. They're off moving on with their lives. Marriages, babies, books, titles, they're growing and reshaping their lives and I'm just...stuck. I can't move past being Inquisitor even with my Inquisition gone. I want to move on, but I can't, and I just have to watch everyone moving while I remain frozen." Nimwen let out a hollow laugh. "Look at me, trying to compare myself to you, feel free to berate me right now."

While she had spoke, his hands had stopped moving. It wasn't the same, her pain was fleeting. Soon enough she would feel love again, her life would progress. She would have more love in her life than she would know what do with. She would _age_ and die in a blink of an eye to him.

"It is as close as you can get to understanding it," Mahvir stated as he finished cleaning the paint and glass from the floor.

In the end, he supposed Solas's wish for the fate of Dirthamen had come true. A part of Mahvir almost longed for the physical torment the others were in within the Black City.

"Let me see your hand, I didn't finish," Nimwen requested.

"The moment physical pain bothers me, Nimwen, you will be the first to know." He gathered the glass and moved to toss it.

"I don't care, you're hurt and I'm fixing it." She grabbed his hand and the healing light returned. "Sometimes injuries hurt more than just the afflicted," she murmured.

Mahvir looked away from her. "You can't heal me, Nimwen," he stated. "I've been broken too many times." The words were meant to tell her to stop trying to understand and put the pieces of him back together. He had been shattered physically by Elgar'nan and the Imperium. His mind and heart by centuries. "You need to focus on putting Solas back together, not me."

"I am going to put him back together." She pulled him into an embrace. "But you are a vital piece of the puzzle."

In that moment, the future he saw Solas destroying him vanished completely. Mahvir didn't move from her embrace, just stared, numbly, into the darkness of the room. She would do whatever it took to save both of them. In doing so he would live and shatter twice over. He would watch again, powerless. He would die on the inside. Mahvir closed his eyes. His eternal fate.

Nimwen's voice was soft, comforting. Motherly kindness personified in the ancient lullaby as she began to sing:

 _Elgara valas, da'len._

 _Melava somniar._

 _Mala tara aravas,_

 _Ara ma'desen melar._

 _Iras ma ghilas, da'len,_

 _ara ma'nedan ashir._

 _Dirthara lothlenan'as,_

 _Bal emma mala dir._

 _Tel'enfanim, da'len,_

 _Irassal ma ghilas._

 _Ma garas mir renan._

 _Ara ma'athlan vhenas._

 _Ara ma'athlan vhenas._

Mahvir kept his gaze on the shadows of the room. He remembered the last time this song was sung to him. The difference in Mythal's voice compared to Nimwen's. Nimwen's was soft and gentle while Mythal's voice had been strong and confident. He thought back on those moments. The feeling he had as a child to the one now. He was in pain now. Yet, Mythal's singing would never have calmed him. He had known her love was for Falon'Din. This was different.

Mahvir - no, he couldn't keep calling himself that. He was running from his fate, from himself and what he had born to be. He was forever Dirthamen. He had tried to deny this. Said he had died the moment his brother had betrayed him. Yet, he was still the secret, still the keeper of all secrets.

" _Ma serannas_ , Nimwen," his voice was hoarse as he whispered this. Dirthamen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He straightened.

"Neither one of you are broken." Nimwen whispered. "Those who are truly broken are those with no hope of redemption. You care, you are kind. You suffer because you care so much for the world and the world has not been kind to you. So long as you continue to care, you will never be out of redemption's reach, this I promise." She hugged him tighter. "Don't give up. You are cracked, but never broken. I know you can heal yourself, and I will help however I can."

Dirthamen didn't respond to this. He could see a brief flash a future she spoke of. A woman he hadn't met, love and warmth replacing his pain and… He closed his eyes. It wasn't a future he wanted or one he knew he deserved.

"My thanks, Nimwen." He wrapped his hand around her arm. "I am fine now. You should get some sleep. I would like to finish Lorien's other present before she wakes." He tilted his head to the table and half finished cutouts of the puzzle, the pieces large and just the right size for such a young child as Lorien.

"Very well, I won't keep you from it any longer," she said as she stood. "She's going to love it."

"That is the hope." Dirthamen smiled at her. The puzzle had been painted already to show a white wolf licking the face a pale pup which looked almost like the wooden toy. He had sealed the image before he started to cut out the pieces. "I just wish I was half the painter Solas was. Sadly I can only paint so it looks real and not what I feel like he can."

"You're both fortunate you can paint at all, I can barely stay within the lines," Nimwen chuckled. "And Lori is more fond of splashing paint everywhere than actually painting the picture."

Dirthamen chuckled. "You should have seen some of Solas's early pieces. Granted they looked like splash paintings because he hadn't figured out how to thicken paints yet." He shook his head. "It was long ago though."

"Maybe someday I'll have an artist," Nimwen sighed.

Dirthamen just gave her a small smile. "Get some sleep, Nimwen. Perhaps take Lorien to see some of the sights tomorrow. I am planning to be with Dagna most of tomorrow and you two do need a break from the chaos which is Solas's side of the family."

"Very well, I hope you have fun with Dagna. Granted, let's keep the fun involving deadly chemicals and explosions to a minimum, all right?"

"I fear that is her speciality, not mine." Dirthamen chuckled. "But I will do as you ask." He bowed to Nimwen. "May your dreams be guarded, Nimwen."

"What does that mean, exactly?" she asked. "You say it often; yet, I don't know the meaning."

"It was something during the war with Forgotten. They could slip into dreams and twist them, even kill the dreamer through the dreams. Solas used to spend time guarding the dreams of our family and the People. It is just a phrase kept in reminder of when we did guard our dreams," Dirthamen tried to explain. "It's also where most Dalish stories come from of the Dread Wolf entering the dreams of the People. Granted, he didn't do so to be the villain as the stories make it out to be, but rather guard the dreams as I stated."

"That sounds like him," Nimwen murmured. She gave him a quick hug. "May your dreams be guarded, Mahvir."

Dirthamen bowed his head to her. When she was gone he returned to the puzzle. Around dawn he had finished the puzzle and wrapped both it and the wolf for Lorien's birthday. The night was the last time he would have time to work on the piece. Today would be spent with Dagna in a slight time warp to finish Nimwen's arm. Then tomorrow…

He sighed and set down the pen. He looked at the fresh ink of the letter to Lorien. The letter which would be placed with her gifts on her birthday. He folded the letter and sealed it.

Dirthamen stood and stretched. He placed the gifts into his bag along with the letter. He settled back down and started to write another letter saying he had gone to the Dagna's shop.

" _You are going to run again_ ," Fear's voice echoed in Dirthamen's head.

" _Go back to scouting the city for Solas_ ," Dirthamen told the raven.

" _We are, no sign of him as you well know_."

" _We could get sweets from that mortal_ ," Deceit huffed.

Dirthamen blocked out the raven's voices. He finished the letter and set it down before he stood and limped from the room. It took a little time to get the shop. His leg had stiffened in the cold of a Ferelden night and it took him longer to loosen it while he walked than normal.

Not to his surprise the shop was already open despite it only just being just passed dawn. He knocked on the door.

A second later the door was pulled open, revealing a smiling Dagna. "You're here!" She ushered him inside. "Come in, come in. I have cookies and coffee. Do you like it black or do you want stuff in it? I have to put sugar and milk and cream in just to let it go down. Helps perk you up though!" the dwarf giggled.

"I am fine without coffee and cookies, but my thanks for the offer." Dirthamen limped a little further into the room. "I believe I might have figured out how to get your arcane abilities to mesh better with my enchantments so that Nimwen will can move the hand with thought," he told Dagna.

"Really?" Dagna gasped. "That's fantastic! I've been wracking my brain for weeks for a way to incorporate mental motor control into the mechanism while optimizing function and weight distribution. This is wonderful. Let's go back to the workshop."

Mahvir limped after the excited dwarf. He leaned his staff against the wall outside the workshop before following her in. On the counter was the skeleton of the arm they had started the other day. He pulled a few parchments from his bag.

"Here." He laid them out beside the arm. On the parchment was a detailed design of gears, metal this time, with the runes he had crafted for movement of toys etched into them. More had been added as well. "I believe the added runes will act in the same way as tendons do in the normal body and will allow for communication between the brain and the arm. It will have to be tested a little first though."

"Oh, of course, can't use her Worship as a guinea pig. Well, we could, but I don't think she'd agree." Dagna took hold of the schematics and began to read them. As her eyes scanned the paper, her expression went from curious to awe. "This is some sophisticated runecraft," she said. "The only other time I recall something on this level was the Shaperate. Where did you learn this?" she asked.

"I fear I am self taught," Dirthamen said. "It's the reason my runes don't match what the dwarves use or those of the Circles."

"That is amazing." Dagna looked up at with him with a look of adoration, as if he'd saved her shop from orges. "To come up with something like this, with no formal training. You'd make the shapers in Orzammar purple with envy!"

"I hope not." Dithamen rubbed the back of his head. "Though, I do admit I did go off of some runes I found in ancient elvhen ruins." It was a flat lie, but he didn't much like all the admiration in her eyes. It made him feel uneasy. "Besides, we don't even know these will work or not yet ." Though, he knew they would work. He had already seen it.

"Right, right, sorry, I was getting ahead of myself," she chuckled sheepishly. "Let's try making some tests before we go adding them to the arm. Gotta ensure nothing goes wrong. I told Harret I'm taking a sick day, so we can work all day!"

Dirthamen chuckled. "Who knows we might actually get this finished today." He limped over to the skeleton. "It looks like you worked some on it last night." He eyed the additions she'd made of the hidden weapons and places for more to be added. She had kept the center clear for the main part of getting the arm to work. "Do you have tools I could borrow to try enchanting a few gears?" he asked, turning to Dagna.

"Of course, what kind of Arcanist would I be if I didn't?" Dagna smiled. "All of my enchanting equipment is over there. I have to keep it separate from my normal smithing equipment or things get mixed up. Harret _hates_ that. Why don't you get to work on the enchantments while I work on the casing. I'm thinking Silverite. What do you think?"

"Expensive, but it will look beautiful," Dirthamen agreed. He turned to the enchanting equipment and frowned. It wasn't common knowledge, but he avoided using lyrium to enchant. His form of enchantments were a long process in which he managed to draw on the Fade in order to combine it with the elvhen runes he used. It was actually the oldest known form of enchanting. One he had made in secret as a child then showed June later on. It had been replaced upon the discovery of lyrium. It was easier to enchant with lyrium than by pulling on the connections of the Fade. Yet, it was the only way to get movement from objects Dirthamen knew of.

He moved over to the equipment and searched for a tool which wouldn't have touched the lyrium. It took him awhile to find one which hadn't and was sharp enough to etch the runes into metal.

Dirthamen settled himself next to the enchanting equipment and pulled out a test gear. It was made of iron instead of a stronger metal. He knew it wouldn't last more than just the tests with the other ones. He set to work.

The Veil always made it harder for Dirthamen to pull on the fine parts of the Fade needed for his form of enchanting, yet, because his connection to it was so weak he was the only one who could still use this form of enchanting. Not being a tranquil meant he still could touch the Fade, but not being a true mage or even barely elvhen meant he could safely weave the energy of the Fade into objects without calling demons or spirits or weakening the Veil. One could almost call it sowing through the thin layers of the Veil Solas had created. Where the energy he called forth was the string and his small magic the needle.

"That should do it." Dirthamen stood, holding around five enchanted gears. "They're brittle but will serve the purpose of a test," he informed Dagna.

"Wow, you work fast," Dagna said as she put her tools down. She picked up one of the gears and weighed it in her hand. "Pretty light as well, which will be good if this is going to be on her arm."

"I fear iron will splinter and break after a short time of use. These are just to test if the enchantments work. I will need a stronger metal for the gears inside the arm."

"Right, good thinking. I have an idea for the testing," she said. She went to the corner of the workroom and came back with a medium sized box. "We could attach them to the lid hinge, and see if we can get the box to open!"

"Good idea." Dirthamen nodded.

"all right, let's do it."

The two of them worked to get the gears into place. "You give it a try first," Dirthamen said. He would rather not be the one to try it. Sometimes enchantments reacted better to the weaver.

"Okay, here I go." Dagna sat at her chair and stared at the box on the table. "Thinking… openy thoughts." Her nose scrunched up and her eyes narrowed in concentration. It took a minute, but there came the sound of the box hinge creaking. "It's working!" she cheered. "Wait, gotta focus." Her grin returned to her concentrated face. After another minute, the pair watched as the lid slowly opened up. "By the Stone, it worked!" She jumped from her seat and pulled Dirthamen into a bear hug. "We did it!"

Dirthamen gasped. Then, he laughed. "That we did."

"Oh, sorry." Dagna released him, still smiling but with a hint of embarrassment. "When stuff like this happens, well, I get excited! Harret's used to it, though, he gets mad when I have oil on my apron and get it on his shirt," she giggled.

Dirthamen smiled at her. "It's fine." He pulled out the gears and inspected them. "Cracked." The gear was a crack running from one end to the center. "Another attempt and it will shatter."

"Be sure not to use up all my lyrium," she joked. The dwarf glanced at the gears and frowned in confusion. "Hang on...where is the lyrium?"

"As I am not a tranquil and obviously not a dwarf, I can't enchant with lyrium. I use other means to enchant items." Dirthamen removed the other gears from the box, inspecting each as he went. All of them showed signs of being cracked. Touching the Fade had made the iron too brittle as he had known it would. "Do you have any gears crafted from dawnstone?" he asked.

"Not any premade, but I do have some dawnstone leftover from a comission I did for a noble in Amaranthine," Dagna said.

"If we can craft those into gears they should prove strong enough not to turn brittle from the enchanting process. It's a shame I don't have ironbark. The wood would prove stronger than any stone and wouldn't be weakened from enchanting."

"What I would give to be able to work with ironbark," Dagna sighed. "Not that I would know what to do with it even if I had some. The only ones who can work it are the Dalish, and they're not about to share that knowledge as far as I know. I actually asked her Worship once if she could teach me, but apparently only the clan's crafters get taught. Shame."

"The key to ironbark is to never use heat while forming it to a weapon," Dirthamen told her only half paying attention as he moved the gears in his hand. He frowned. "I might still have a few gears made from it without enchantments on them, but it's been sometime since I was able to acquire any." Dirthamen limped over to where he had left his bag. He started to pull out the wrappings holding toys for children in search for his gear collection.

"I can't believe it, I get to work with _real_ ironbark, I don't even care if I didn't carve them," Dagna squealed. clapping.

There. Dirthamen pulled out the box and opened it. There were just enough blank gears in it he would be able to enchant them for the arm. He frowned. He also did have a little of the precious wood leftover from making these before meeting Nimwen. He replaced the toys in his bag and stood, holding both the box of gears and the thin slices of bark he had managed to get his last trip through a wood before a clan took notice of him.

"Here." He held out of the wood to Dagna. "You might be able to use this down the line. It's not much, but at least you can try to see if it has any uses with what you do, Arcanist."

Dagna's eyes were wide as plates as she stared at the ironbark. "Oh, oh my. Give me a moment." Carefully, as if she feared it would disappear, she took the wood from his hand and into hers. "It's so...light." she said in astonishment. "And it's so pretty too. I mean, for wood it's pretty. Though, there is some _really_ pretty woods out there. Like birch, or sylvans, of course sylvans would probably kill me. Sorry, I'm rambling." She laughed nervously. "But, thank you, _thank you_. This is such an honor, and it's an honor to get to work with someone with yours skills. The Inquisitor is lucky to have someone like you caring about her."

Dirthamen felt a little heat creep over his ears as she spoke. "My thanks. She is also lucky to have you." He bowed his head to Dagna. "Just keep in mind to not apply heat to the wood. It will warp it and make it useless. Weapons crafted from ironbark are as sharp as any made from steel and just as strong, but only if crafted correctly." He bowed his head to her once more and limped back to where had been working. This time he had his own tools which could carve into the hardwood.

Dirthamen set to work weaving the enchantments into the ironbark gears. These gears would hold the enchantments and actually become stronger for them. It had been an interesting experiment to see what would happen with metal, but even stronger metals like dawnstone and silverette would become brittle and eventually break. Ironbark gears would last Nimwen most of her natural life, if not outlast her.

The problem would become trying to get the wood to mesh with the silverette casing.

"Daggy, you in here?"

"Yeah," Dagna repled.

The door opened and Sera walked inside. "What are you two doin'? It's the middle of the day."

Dirthamen didn't look up until the weave of the enchantment was complete on the last gear. "Afternoon, Sera." He checked over the gears to make certain the enchantments were in place and correct. "The gears are ready," he told Dagna as he stood. "The problem now is getting them to mesh with the silverette casing. How is it coming?"

"I think I've almost got it," Dagna replied. "It's been tricky, but I think it should work so long as the measurements are right."

"Hold on, that an arm?" Sera asked. "Are you two making a person or something?"

"No, silly, it's for the Inquisitor," Dagna explained.

"Maker, why would we want to make a metal person? That sounds like crossing the line a little in morality and I would rather not incur the wrath of the chantry."

"I don't know what you two smarties get up to. People make stupid things all the time."

"Well, we're not making a metal person, I assure you. At least, not yet." Dagna let out a stream of sinister chuckles.

"Real creepy, love."

"I'm just kidding!"

Sera rolled her eyes and kissed the dwarf's cheek. "So, this thing gonna be better than the pirate hand?"

"Hmm." Dirthamen wasn't paying attention to the couple. He was over the schematics once more, editing them. He was trying to get it so that the attachment of the arm wouldn't painful or permanent. Granted, after it was attached by this current design it wouldn't hurt. Well until she was struck. The enchantments on the gears, if woven into the metal of the arm correctly, wouldn't just mean she could move the arm like her real one but could feel with it as well. It worked both ways saddly. Then there was the problem with not having the gears' enchantments being disrupted by the enchantments Dagna had added to the casing.

Dirthamen turned back to the ironbark and frowned. He had adjusted them while he worked on them and knew it would work with the what Dagna had, yet, he didn't much like the idea of causing Nimwen pain when the the arm was attached.

"So, you're Solas's kid, yeah?"

Dirthamen blinked and looked over his shoulder at Sera. "Nimwen told you, you are well aware of my relation to Solas." He turned to her. "You have questions?" he asked. Dirthamen removed his funny glasses.

"Um...I'm going to get more cookies," Dagna said, unease in her voice.

"All right, Dag," Sera replied, eyes still on Dirthamen. The elven woman waited until her lover left the room before she spoke. "Look, the Inquisitor said that you were nice and trustworthy, but she'll take anyone in, so, I gotta make sure for myself. So, why are you helping her when your old man's tryin' to do the opposite?"

"First, I am going to clarify, Solas is my father, yes, but he believes I am the son of his brother. Second, Solas and I haven't been on speaking terms for many centuries. Third, I will do everything in my power to keep this world and the people, not just elves, but humans, dwarves, and kossith as well from the agony Solas is going to put them through by destroying the Veil."

Dirthamen looked towards the arm. "Nimwen is the only one who can make him see this world is far better than one he once knew. That creating the Veil didn't destroy the world in the way he thinks it did. And Nimwen deserves to move forward with her life after this." He looked back at Sera. "Forgive me if I am not what you're expecting a son of Solas to be." He bowed his head to the archer. It was hard talking about his relation to Solas. Perhaps, because it was something which had torn apart his life during the final years of Elvhenan. Perhaps, it was because of other reasons. Just, he disliked bringing up his relation to the man he had onced believed to be his uncle.

"I… well, shite." The accusing gaze on the rogue's face fizzled away, no doubt taken aback by his answer. "I… guess that's good? It's just, her life's already been fuddled up by all this magic stuff and elfy elf nonsense, and I'm worried she'd gonna mess it up more by keep going at it. I don't want this Veil stuff and Solas stuff to hurt her, or Lil' Inky, you know? People need to stop punching the cat bag." Sera sighed. "All right, here's deal: you get the Herald her arm and stop the egg from blowing up Thedas. Do that, and don't get more trouble for her and Lil' Inky, and I'll leave ya be, yeah?"

"I will do what I can to not cause her any more pain." Dirthamen bowed his head though he already knew this promise was broken before he made it.

"Good," Sera nodded.

"I have snickerdoodles!" Dagna sung as she pushed the door open.

"Ooh, nice!" Sera ran to the dwarf and swiped three cookies from the plate, only to immediately drop them. "Ow!"

"Careful, they're hot," Dagna warned her.

"I know _now_ ," Sera grumbled as she held her hurt hand.

Dirthamen turned from the women and back to the work at hand. He saw a way to get the gears to work with the arm and, yet, there was still the problem Nimwen might not be able to remove the arm at all. Granted, with a normal enchanted arm of this level, she wouldn't have been able to remove it either. He let out a low breath and rubbed his eyes.

Dirthamen felt something placed on his head, followed by muffled snickers. He removed the cookie and placed it on the table before returning to his work on the designs.

A minute later a similar, but slightly heavier weight, was on his head. The giggles that followed were even louder.

He sighed. "While I appreciate the thought, Sera," Dirthamen started as he removed the sweets. "I do not care for sweets. I am certain they taste fine," he assured Dagna. "It's just, I've never much liked them." He placed the two cookies by the other one. "And it is a waste to keep giving me more of them if they're not going to be eaten."

Dagna gasped. "You don't like cookies?"

"Are you real?" Sera asked.

Dirthamen cocked an eyebrow. "Now, that is a question? We could debate if any of us actually exist; yet, I would rather complete this," - he gestured towards the workings of the arm - "before sunrise tomorrow. It is far more productive use of one's time." He turned back to the work.

"He's right," Dagna said as she put the plate of cookies down. "We have a lot of work to do and we need to get back to it."

Sera groaned. "Fiiiiine. But don't work to long, 'kay? I don't want to find you passed out in a puddle of goo."

"That was _one_ time!" Dagna pouted.

"Whatever. I have a guy I need to meet, so I might be late," Sera said, turning to leave. "Have fun, and don't let her pass out in goo."

"One. Time!"

"Love you, Widdle," the elf winked, and then she was gone.

"She's ridiculous sometimes," Dagna sighed with a shake of her head.

"She only cares about you," Dithamen stated. Then, he changed the subject. "I don't believe there is a way to attach the arm such that Nimwen could remove it or not feel pain during the attachment. I've been back over the designs a few times." He shook his head. "I suppose it is the trade off since the arm does have to fuse with her to work with her brain."

"Hmm… maybe we could knock her out with something?" Dagna suggested. "I'm sure there is some sort of potion we could find to knock her unconscious during the procedure. Sera might even know somebody since she seems to know… everybody."

"They are her people," Dirthamen said with a chuckle. "Though, this is an issue for tomorrow. The main part now is to get the gears and enchantments to mesh without disrupting one another. This will take the most time."

"Right." Dagna stuffed a cookie into her mouth. "Let's get started," she said around the cookie.

"Let's," Dirthamen agreed.

By the time night fell, the two of them had managed to complete the arm and ensured it worked for as far as they could tell. Dagna had fallen asleep at the workbench while Dirthamen placed the final touches on the arm. He pulled out a blanket and draped it over the sleeping girl's shoulders.

"Sleep well, Arcanist." Dirthamen looked at the dwarf one last time before he cleaned their mess. He picked up the bag and left the room. There was one place he wished to be this night, the only matter was getting in and out with Shianni noticing.

Dirthamen slipped through alienage without notice of those few who were still awake. Not to his surprise, no light could be seen from Shianni's home. He reversed time on the lock and the door opened. He slipped into the house and glanced around, only the soft sounds of Valendrian sleeping could be heard.

Careful not wake him Dirthamen closed and locked the door. He moved over to his son and settled himself on the floor beside Valendrian's bed. He stayed until the first light of dawn could be seen outside the home. Dirthamen stood and gave Valendrian a soft kiss on the forehead.

"I promise I will return, my son," he whispered before limping from house. He used time magic to relock the door. None would know he had been there at all.

Dirthamen closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. In the end, he would return.


	19. Chapter 19

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** **SHOUTOUTS GO OUT TO: narmoture, and all of our other awesome readers who have been with us on this wacky journey!**

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Chapter 19:

"Where are you?" Nimwen muttered as she scanned the market square. She'd read the note Mahvir left saying he would be at Dagna's. When she went to the Overcroft and found no trace of him, she became worried. Now, after searching the city for an hour, she was frantic. She knew there were people staring at her, but she didn't care. The roof of the Gnawed Noble Inn was proving to be a decent perch to look over the market, and she wasn't about to move.

"Inquisitor?!"

Nimwen looked down and saw Cullen staring up at her.

"Cullen."

"What in Andraste's name are you doing?"

"Mahvir never returned from working with Dagna and I'm worried."

"But, _why_ are you on the roof?"

"I need the height!"

"What is going on?" Franne came outside to join her husband. "Cullen, what are you looking at-?" She tilted her head up and caught sight of Nimwen. "Nimwen?"

"Good morning, Franne."

"Yeah… it's too early for this. I'm going back inside." Immediately Franne retreated inside the inn.

"No, love help me get her-" Cullen groaned. "Your Worship, please get off the roof."

"Not until I find Mahvir."

"Inquisitor, people are staring."

"Let them stare."

"Nimwen, get off the blasted roof before I come up there!"

The elf blinked, as if brought back to reality. She looked down and noticed a small group of people watching her and pointing fingers. She sighed. "Very well." Carefully, she slid down the gutter and back to the ground. "Maybe I shouldn't do that again."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Cullen responded.

"I'm just so worried, what if something happened? What if he's hurt? He didn't even come home for dinner."

"He's a grown man, Inquisitor, I'm sure he's capable of handling himself."

"I know, but there's sometimes I feel…" Nimwen shook her head. "We need to find him. But I can't think of anywhere else to look-" It suddenly hit her, the one place she forgot to look. "I'm a fool!"

"Come again?"

"The alienage!"

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no, it's fine, I can handle this myself." Also, Nimwen was certain the elves would be wary of a random human appearing in their midst. She bid Cullen farewell and set off towards the alienage gates. Those who saw her on the roof glanced her way, whispering as she passed, and she could feel a hint of a blush come to her cheeks. Perhaps perching atop the roof like an owl wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it felt right at the time. The last time she'd been that worried was the first time she couldn't find Lori. She'd torn Skyhold apart only to find the girl in the rookery with Leliana, but during that time it felt like the world was ending. She'd vowed afterwards to never lose sight of her children again.

She crossed the bridge into the alienage, where a few of the elves were already up and about. She started looking up, down, and around the dilapidated buildings for any signs of Mahvir, until she noticed some activity near the _vhenadahl._ Curious, she approached the colorful tree, only to pause at the scene.

"Happened next?" a child's voice begged.

Sure enough, a large group of elven children were gathered around one spot of the tree.

"Well, the People were granted a homeland by Andraste's sons," a familiar voice seemed to continue a story.

Another child moved forward in the group and then she stepped back, clutching a wooden doll to her small chest. Her eyes were just as wide as all the other children's. "You sound like you there," she whispered.

Nimwen observed the group quietly, a small smile on her face.

"That will be our little secret." The next moment, Mahvir stood, pulling himself up with his staff.

"Ah, don't go." The children moved towards him. One grabbed his tattered robes and looked up at him with pleading eyes. "'Nother story?"

"My apologies, Little one, I must be going. I promise I'll return and tell another for you." He winked. "I'll even have more toys if you're all good for your parents."

The children brightened at once.

Mahvir patted them on the heads before he limped from the crowd of children. He moved towards Nimwen. A few the little ones followed after him. "Morning, Nimwen," he greeted her with an almost apologetic smile.

"Don't go, mister! More story!" the children kept moving around him.

"Sorry, children, but storytime is over," Nimwen said. "And you." She pointed an accusing finger at Mahvir. "You had me worried sick! What was the point of leaving me a note if you're not even going to stay at the place in the note?" she scolded, wagging her finger for good measure. She looked to the group of elven children. "Some advice, kids. If you ever go somewhere, tell your mommy or daddy first, all right?"

The kids blinked. The boy who had spoken before tugged Mahvir's robes. "She you wife?" he asked. "She bossy."

If Nimwen had a drink, she would have spat it out. Instead she felt her face turn beet red.

Mahvir chuckled. "No, just a friend. Now, off with you lot." He ushered them way.

The children grumbled a little before they raced off laughing, each comparing the toy they'd gotten.

Mahvir turned back to Nimwen. "I was at Dagna's until late last night. Coming here was a personal matter. My apologies for causing you distress."

"Well, I'll forgive you since it's apparent you made those children's day," Nimwen smiled. "That was very kind of you to do."

"I didn't get the nickname Toymaker because Valendrian thought it was funny," Mahvir stated, pain appeared in his eyes for a brief moment. It was gone in a blink. "Shall we? I believe Dagna wanted to see you after you found me." He gave her a soft smile and bowed, gesturing towards the bridge.

"Can I ask you something first?"

He straightened and cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"When was the last time you ate?"

Mahvir shifted. "A topic for another time." He limped off towards the bridge.

"Oh, no, you don't." She grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. She had half a mind to hold him by his ear, but she refrained. "Come, the inn is serving pumpkin soup and you're having a bowl of it. Two if you don't cooperate."

Mahvir visibly made a face at the mention of pumpkin soup. "Fine, fine, then Dagna's shop."

Nimwen smiled. "Of course. Ready to go?"

Mahvir started off, using his staff for support. "Let's get the food out of the way."

"It's brunch, Mahvir, not getting the wrack," Nimwen teased.

Mahvir cocked an eyebrow at her, but didn't otherwise speak. His expression looked almost like one of Solas's. The two of them traveled back to the inn in silence.

They entered and claimed one of the tables by the door.

"What'll you two be havin'?" asked the middle aged waitress.

"Two bowls of pumpkin soup," Nimwen answered.

"All right, you two sit tight."

As the woman walked away, Nimwen turned to Mahvir. "I've been wanting to try it since we got here. I smelled some and was ready to steal the bowl away." She chuckled. "It's supposed to be quite good for you as well."

"Yes, well food is food." Mahvir leaned back in his seat. " _Ir abelas_ for worrying you, Nimwen. It honestly wasn't my intention."

"It's fine. Honestly it's my fault for being such a worry-wart," she admitted.

"It was kind of you to be concerned. It's the first time in a long time someone has cared enough about my whereabouts to make a fool of themselves in front of a marketplace." He smiled and gave her a small wink.

Nimwen sputtered. "Hold on, how did you figure-oh, wait." Nimwen felt like a fool for forgetting Mahvir's visions. Of course he'd know. "The things you people make me do," she chuckled.

Mahvir bowed his head. "My apologies." He frowned. "Is Lorien with the commander and captain?" he asked.

"She was still asleep when I left the room, but Franne was with her," Nimwen said. "For how hard it is to get her to sleep, once she's out she's like a log."

"That is good to hear." His gaze clouded all of a sudden. "It seems Fear spotted one of Solas's people during the night," - he scowled - "though why the foolish bird is only just now telling me is a little odd."

"That's good," Nimwen said. She felt hope well in her chest. It was small, but this is one step closer to finding Solas. "Did he say where?"

"Edge of the city. We can look into later today."

"All right, we shall. But first," - Nimwen smiled at the approach of the waitress - "we feast."

"Two pumpkin soups," the woman said, placing the steaming bowls before the two elves.

"Thank you," Nimwen said.

The waitress nodded and went to another table.

"This smells delicious." Nimwen grinned, the sight of the gold-orange soup making her stomach rumble.

Dirthamen took a deep breath before he bent to the soup. For the first time since knowing him, Mahvir made a face as he swallowed the soup. He shuddered.

"You all right?" Nimwen asked. She wondered if perhaps the soup tasted off. She blew on her spoon and put it to her mouth. The creamy soup was a wondrous burst of flavor on her tongue. She had to restrain herself from making a noise at how good it was. "This is wonderful. Don't you like it?"

"Feed it to Solas when you get him back. He'll love it," Mahvir stated. He picked up the still hot soup and downed it as fast as possible. When he lowered the bowl he shuddered. " _Ir abelas_ ," he said through watering eyes. "Better to get it over with when it's something that rich and… sweet."

"Sorry you don't like it," Nimwen said, eating her soup at a much slower pace. "But it's good you ate it, you need to eat things with more nutrition in them. Have to put some meat on your bones, not to mention all the vitamins." Nimwen was used to dealing with picky eaters. If it wasn't for Nimwen's constant goading, Lori would have had a diet consisting of just cake and eggs. She prayed as Lori grew up her tastes who broaden. Mahvir would take a miracle, she feared.

Mahvir chuckled. "I don't eat because most of the time I forget food exists and I honestly don't care for it. Wine on the other hand," he started in teasing tones.

"Wine is good," Nimwen admitted. "But one can't live off it alone, so eat your vegetables, mister," she jested.

He smiled at her, dark eyes shining in the candle light. "Of course, _mamae_ , I will do as you ask." He bowed to her.

She smiled warmly. "I can order us some wine, if you wish. A treat for eating all your soup."

Mahvir raised his hand in a gesture which said "no." "I fear my taste for wines would drive you to be copperless, Nimwen. It is best not to try to indulge me, but my thanks for offering. We should head to the Overcroft."

"All right-" Nimwen's eyes widened as she remembered what she'd planned to do that morning, before she discovered Mahvir's disappearance. "Give me a moment, all right? I'll meet you outside."

"I will head to the Overcroft, if that is all right? I need to help Dagna with a matter before you arrive as it is." He stood. "I will see you there, Nimwen."

"Very well." Nimwen stood and walked towards the hallway leading to their rooms. Upon entering she saw Franne braiding Lori's hair.

" _Mamae_ ," the girl smiled. "Lookit, aunt Franne give me fancy braid!"

"It's called a fishtail," Franne explained. "My mother used to give them to me all the time. Before I hacked off my hair at least," she chuckled, shaking her short bob.

"That's nice of you to do," Nimwen said as she went to her room. "Did you say 'thank you'?" she called back.

"Thanks, Auntie Franne!"

Nimwen smiled as she reached under her bed and grabbed the sack hidden beneath. She looked inside at the bag's contents, just to make sure nothing had happened to it. She felt pleased at the sight of over a month's secret labor. "He's going to love it," she said proudly. With the bag in hand, she left the room and headed for the door. "I'm going back out, keep an eye on her for me?"

"Can do," Franne saluted.

"But, _mamae_ ," Lori pouted. "We go 'splorin today!"

"We are going to see the sights tomorrow, _da'len_ ," Nimwen clarified.

Lori pouted. "We go today."

"We go when I say we do," Nimwen responded firmly.

Lori crossed her arms. "No fair, _mamae_."

"I am quite fair. Now, you behave for Aunt Franne, and if I hear you were naughty you won't get dessert. Have fun you two." Nimwen left the rooms and headed outside. She made the walk across the market to the Overcroft, eyeing the activity in the square with mild interest. She found she liked Denerim much more than Val Royeaux. Everything seemed so much simpler, and the toned down architecture and attitudes of the people made Nimwen feel much more relaxed than she did in the Orlesian capitol.

She pushed open the door to the Overcroft, and greeted Harret at the counter. "They in the back?" she asked.

"Just missed him, head on to the workshop," the blacksmith replied, nodding towards the back room.

Nimwen walked to the back and knocked. "Is it safe to come in?"

"Nothing will explode if you do," Mahvir's voice sounded from the other side of the door. His staff was leaning against the wall beside the door.

Nimwen opened the door. "I come in peace."

"Of course, why wouldn't- _oh,_ you're joking," Dagna chuckled.

"So, what have you two been cooking up in here?" asked Nimwen.

"Would you like to do the honors, Arcanist Dagna?" Mahvir asked with a slight bow to the dwarf.

"It would be my pleasure," Dagna replied.

Nimwen's curiosity piqued when Dagna grabbed a small brown case. "Before I show you, I must give most of the credit to Mahvir here, it was mostly his designs." She adjusted her hold and then opened the case. "But, let me just say, collaboration or not, this is probably some of my best work."

Nimwen stared at the contents of the case. "It's a… gauntlet?"

Dagna snorted. "No, no, it's an arm, _your_ arm."

"Wait, what?"

"The idea of the arm came to me when you received your other one from the Arcanist here," Mahvir explained. "This one will, well, it will be an actual arm. It will move like a normal hand. The only drawback is that it fuses to you in order to get it to work," he trailed off.

"I…" Nimwen didn't know what to say. With this information, she looked at the object in a whole new light. It was beautiful, with a silvery sheen that could only be silverite. Flowery designs were etched into the metal, even wrapping around the fingers. "This is incredible, it must have cost you a fortune," she said to Dagna.

The dwarf waved her hand. "No, not really. Well, okay, yeah, it was, but after what you people paid me, I think I can splurge on some silverite."

"I… _ma serannas_." Nimwen grinned.

Mahvir smiled. "If you would like, we did convince Sera to get something to knock you out if you want the arm attached."

"Knock me out?"

"Yeah, we should probably warn you, without something strong to put you under, this would be painful to put on," Dagna said.

"I don't understand, wouldn't I just put it on like I would this one?" Nimwen asked, pointing to her hook.

"As I said, this one fuses with you for it to work. Remember the halla toy I gave you?" Mahvir asked.

"Yes?"

"Well, the enchantments I used on that reacted to the voice of whoever gave the commands for it to move. With this, the enchantments will interact with your mind. In other words, you can move this new arm the way you do your normal arm. For this to work, however, it will have to fuse with the tendons, bone, and skin of your arm. Otherwise, there is no way for the enchantments to communicate with your brain."

"I see." Nimwen glanced at the arm. "You're sure this will work?"

"I am ninety-two percent sure that this will work with no perceivable issues," Dagna assured the elf.

"And I am one hundred percent certain, if that is any consolation, Nimwen." Mahvir looked Nimwen in the eye. While his expression was calm, his dark eyes were soft.

"Well, if you both think it'll work… let's do it." Nimwen let out a laugh. "I'm actually getting my arm back… wow. I never thought it'd happen. I thought the hook was enough for me."

"Only the best for you, Inquisitor," Dagna smiled. "Oh, what do you have in that bag?"

"Huh?" Nimwen then remembered what she'd gone back to the room for. "Oh, this." She reached around and took the bag off her back. "This is for you, actually, Mahvir."

Mahvir shifted and pulled at one of his tattered sleeves. "My thanks, Nimwen, but you didn't have to make a sweater for me." He hadn't even taken the bag yet.

Nimwen pouted. She didn't even get to surprise him. Not that she would have been able to, in hindsight. "Well, I did, and you are going to at least take in my handiwork. And I do mean _hand_ iwork. You'd be surprised how difficult it is to knit with one hand." She reached in and pulled out the sweater. "Ta-dah." It was… very purple, and gloriously fluffy. It was made of Dales loden wool dyed a rich dark purple, with long sleeves and a cozy collar. But that wasn't all. On the front were what brought Nimwen the most challenge. Frolicking across the dark purple sweater were four lavender colored halla.

"So… what do you think?" she asked. On the inside she was hoping it wasn't too much or that he thought her ridiculous. Worst, she thought, was that making it with just one hand produced a shabby result. She hoped he couldn't see any mistakes.

Mahvir's ears were bright red and his eyes wide. " _Ma serannas_ , Nimwen," he managed to say. "You didn't need to go through such effort on my account."

Nimwen snorted. "Of course I do," she insisted. "Family is all about doing ridiculous things if the end result is them being happy."

"I second that," Dagna added.

Nimwen placed the sweater in his arms. "It's the least I can do. You built me an arm for goodness' sake. It'll never measure up to that but… I hope you like it."

Mahvir traced the halla with one gloved figure. "It more than measure ups," he whispered.

Nimwen smiled and hugged him. "I'm glad you like it." She was also greatly pleased her gift was not seen as ludicrous.

Mahvir folded the sweater and, almost too carefully, placed it into his bag. He straightened and cleared his throat. "Would you like to be knocked out for when we attach the arm?" he asked, voice almost even, but still soft.

"Yes, please. I've had enough pain for one lifetime," Nimwen said. After the sensation of her arm melting off… Nimwen vowed to avoid unnecessary pain.

"Very well." Mahvir turned from her and lifted a bowl from the workbench. "We cleared a place for you to lay while the arm was attached." He pointed to one of the tables, a pillow had been placed on it. "When you're there and ready, drink this." He pointed to the bowl. "You'll be out for an hour at least."

"You two are prepared for this?" Nimwen asked.

"Yup, it'll be easy, I think," Dagna said. "But, really, it shouldn't be any harder than connecting a part to a machine. Except this time the machine is alive, and fleshy instead of metally."

"That is less than assuring, Arcanist." Mahvir looked from Dagna to Nimwen and smiled. "I've studied enough healing through herbs to know what I am doing, Nimwen. I won't let Dagna try to blow up the room or anything while you're asleep. You'll be quite safe."

' _You both are not very assuring,'_ Nimwen thought to herself. However, if she had to trust anybody to attach a device to her, it would be those two. "Just do what you have to do," she said to them.

Mahvir bowed his head before he guided her to the table and passed her the bowl only once she was on the table. "Drink," he urged her.

Nimwen shortly examined the contents of the bowl and then quickly downed the concoction. "Got any more?" she joked, grimacing as the foul potion went down her throat.

Instead of replying, Mahvir helped her lay down.

"So, how long does this take to work?" she asked.

"Welcome back, Nimwen." Mahvir reappeared over her. "How do you feel?"

"Huh, what?" Nimwen asked. "How do I feel? You didn't do anything yet."

Mahvir smile and tapped something on her left. There was a soft feeling of his finger against her.

"What was that-" Her eyes widened. "Wait-wait, did you just-?" She was almost too afraid to look for herself. "Is it…?"

"You are fine." Mahvir helped her sit up. "The fact your felt my touch is a good sign. Can you flex your fingers?" he asked.

"I-I can try." Even though it hadn't even been a year since she'd lost her arm, Nimwen still feared she wouldn't know what to do. Hesitantly she attempted to do what she had been doing for twenty-one years. "Wiggle your fingers," she murmured to herself. There came the sound of light tapping on the table. "Did I do it?"

"You should see for yourself, Nimwen." Mahvir shot a look towards Dagna which said " _don't speak_."

Nimwen forced herself to look down at her arm. Her hook was gone, instead replaced by the silverite hand. "Oh, wow," she said. It really did look like her original hand, painted silver. She lifted it to her face, turning and inspecting it. She didn't move the hand or the fingers. Despite knowing otherwise, she couldn't help but fear any movement or bending would make the whole thing fall apart.

At this, Mahvir chuckled. "You're unlikely to break it, Nimwen. The casing is silverite and the gears ironbark. I assure you it will last you all of your natural life, if not longer."

"Nice to hear," Nimwen replied, regretting the shake in her voice. With a gulp, Nimwen attempted to bend her artificial fingers. To her amazement, she watched as the metal digits slowly curled. "They moved," Nimwen gasped. "Mahvir, I have fingers, and they moved!"

"Yes, you do and they did. Now, can you touch each finger to your thumb?" he asked.

"Let me try," Nimwen said. She attempted the task and at first it was tricky, but soon she got the hang of it.

"Ooh, I can't take it anymore!" Dagna squealed. "I know you said to be quiet, but I can't believe it. We did it! Real motor control and sensory from an artificial limb! This is a breakthrough!" The dwarf girl jumped up and down, clapping.

Mahvir chuckled at Dagna's enthusiasm. He looked at Nimwen. "Just take it easy with your hand, don't go punching any walls right away. While I am certain your hand would win that fight, it will still hurt." He held out his hand to her. "Otherwise, congratulations, you are the first one I know of to have a fully working artificial limb."

"I just… I can't even…" Mahvir became blurry as tears welled up in her eyes. " _Ma serannas_ , Mahvir, Dagna. I will never be able to repay you two."

Suddenly the workshop door was thrown open.

"Inquisitor," a panting Cullen said.

"Cullen, what's wrong?" Nimwen asked, seeing the look on the commander's face.

"It's Lori, she's gone."

"What?!"

Mahvir closed his eyes as if someone had physically struck him.

"Are you okay?" Dagna asked him, going to his side.

"I am fine." His eyes opened. "We need to find Lorien. Nimwen, I will start the search, you need to rest a little before you go running around. The effects of the medicine we gave you hasn't fully worn off."

"Forget that, I'm not lying around while my baby's off somewhere," Nimwen snapped. She turned to Cullen. "What in blazes happened? Franne was supposed to watch her!"

"She was. She put Lori down for a nap, then took one herself. She said when she went to check on her that the window was open and she was gone."

"No, no, no, this isn't happening," Nimwen groaned, clutching her forehead.

While the two of them had been talking, Mahvir limped over to his bag and put it on. "Calm down, Nimwen, I have been in your place before. The worst reaction is to rush off blindly. We will find Lorien." He limped towards the door. "Commander, is Sera in the main part of the shop?"

"I think she was talking to Harret," said Cullen.

"We will need her help." Mahvir turned to Nimwen. "Come." He limped from the room. The sound of his staff against the wood followed and his pace sounded faster.

Nimwen hopped off the table, pausing for a moment as she regained her balance. Soon after she was following Cullen and Mahvir out of the workshop and into the front of the shop.

"Sera, we need your aid," Mahvir said, interrupting Sera and Harret's conversation.

"Huh, what's it?" asked the rogue.

"Lori is gone," said Nimwen.

"What, Lil' Inky?" Sera gasped. "Oh, shite, well, what you need me for?"

"You have more people in the city," Mahvir stated. "And, from what I've heard of you, the sharpest sight of any archer." Without waiting for a response from Sera, Mahvir limped out of the shop.

"You coming?" Nimwen asked for him.

"Fuck, yeah, I'm not sittin' here while Inky's out there," Sera said.

"Thank you." Nimwen turned to Dagna and Harret. "You two should stay here. If you see Lori, grab her and bring her here, all right?"

"Gladly." Dagna nodded.

"Don't worry, Inquisitor, you'll find your girl," Harret said.

"I hope you're right," Nimwen sighed. She and Sera joined Mahvir outside.

Mahvir was already partway down the street, though his pace made it easy to catch up with him. "You two go on ahead, I will only slow you down."

"All right." Nimwen turned to Sera. "You have any idea where to start?"

The rogue grinned. "Just follow me. I have three drunks, a whore, and a maid who owe me favors."

* ~ x ~ *

Solas entered the city, wearing the robes he had when he left the Inquisition so as not to draw unneeded attention to himself. The only one of his companions who were in armor was the other male elf. He wore the gear of an agent of the Inquisition.

Solas had heard reports of Nimwen and Dirthamen in the city from his people. One of his spies in the alienage had told him of a shabby elf passing out toys earlier this morning. The description this spy had given him matched Dirthamen.

It took a lot of effort on Solas's part not to touch the wolf jaw around his neck. He still remembered the seven year old Dirthamen giving it to him. Solas shoved the thought away. That gentle boy was no more. Now was the time to start moving the pieces into place to capture Dirthamen and make certain his nephew could never again harm another.

"You look troubled, my lord," Melda said. She was dressed like an average elvhen peasant. For all intents and purposes, she was just like the girl she'd been when Solas first recruited her. Aside from the number of blades no doubt hidden on her person, that was.

Solas cocked an eyebrow at her. "I am just thinking."

"Thought is all well and good, sir, but-" the agent cut off, his eyes wide.

"Good doggy!"

"Little Lady Lorien!" The agent raced forward. "What in the holy Andraste's name are you doing out here? Where's your mother?"

Solas followed the agent's progress. His eyes fell over a small elvhen child. He stopped in his tracks and felt as his eyes widened. Familiar yellow hair was pulled into a fish-braid on the girl's head. Hair Solas remembered from his brother and from-from himself.

The girl stood on the tips of her toes, small hands petting the snout of a mabari statue. She turned around at the sound of the agent. "You _mamae_ guy?" she asked pointing to his uniform.

"I am. Where is your mother?" the agent asked.

As Solas looked into the girl's face, he felt as if he had been struck. There was no denying those seed-shaped eyes or the small dimple on her chin. It felt as if ice was growing in his stomach even as his heart fluttered with warmth. For the first time ever, Solas was seeing his-his daughter.


	20. Chapter 20

**AUTHORS' NOTES:**

 **Flamewing: Well, cat's out of the bag on one of the two kids… so to speak. Thank you everyone who has been sticking with us through this story.**

 **HerenyaHope: The big reveal is finally here! Took him long enough lol. Once again thank you everyone for following this wild trip.**

 **SHOUTOUTS GO OUT TO:** **doctorwhofan12345, MackenzieTheHuntress** **,** **Ryuu no Sora, and everyone else who has faved, followed, and supported our story!**

Chapter 20:

Solas stared at his daughter, uncertain he could believe his eyes and not sure of the emotions which filled him. He had a child. Dirthamen-his nephew hadn't been lying about her.

"I wanna go 'splorin," the girl said to the agent. She pouted, with lips identical to her mother's. "But _mamae_ no let me. So, Aunt Franne go nappy and I go window, and now I pet the doggy!" She hopped up and patted the stone animal's head. "He good doggy."

Solas took a deep breath and stepped up to the agent. He knelt beside the girl. "Where is your _mamae_?" he asked and tried to ignore the fluttering in heart as he looked into eyes the same shade of blue as Nimwen's.

She blinked up at him. "Who you?"

"Just answer the question, dear," said Melda.

"She with Mahvy."

Mahvy? Who was Mahvy? "And do you know where he is?" Solas asked, assuming this person was even a he that was. His heart skipped a beat. This girl, his daughter could end up killed in what he was doing. The idea struck him harder than seeing her for the first time.

Instead of answering his question, the little girl looked at him quizzically. "You look like Mahvy!" She poked him on the nose. "Why you look like big brother?"

The question made Solas's blood turn to ice. Mahvy was Dirthamen. This meant Dirthamen was with Nimwen. A mixture of emotions crashed down on Solas. His nephew was with his heart still and had been with his daughter.

"You wanted to go exploring?" he asked his daughter.

Lori nodded.

Solas held out his hand. "We can explore a little; then, we'll return you to your mother," he lied. He wasn't going to let this precious child be harmed. He wouldn't-couldn't stand the idea of harming his own child.

Lori cocked her head to the side. "Who you? _Mamae_ said no go with stranger!"

The word stuck Solas in the heart. "My name is Solas," he introduced himself. "If I look like your," he hesitated, "brother, am I really a stranger?" It was too weird calling his nephew his daughter's brother.

The girl seemed to ponder this, putting her little finger to her chin in thought. "I dunno, no?" she asked. "We go 'splore?"

"Yes. I promise."

"Yay! 'Splore! 'Splore!" She jumped up and hugged him. " _Ma serannas,_ Sully. _Mamae_ say you say that when people nice."

Solas's eyes widened when he heard her speak elvish. His eyes closed a little. "You're welcome, _da'len_." He stood and held out his hand to her. "Shall we?"

"Oki doki, Sully," she said, her tiny hand fitting into his larger one.

Solas led his daughter from the market and out of the city. "You'll see a place our People once went to on a daily basis," he told Lori as they walked.

"Like _mamae's_ Dalish?" Lori asked.

"No, _da'len_ , better."

"Sir, is it really necessary to take the little lady?" the agent whispered. "I mean, I know she's your daughter and all, but her Worship will be worried sick."

Solas felt his heart twist at the mention of Nimwen. He looked down at the little girl. His hand tightened a little around her's. He didn't want to harm her. Either of them. Yet, the idea of letting this little one go…

"I agree with him," said Melda. "No doubt the Inquisitor will come looking for her, and if she can trace the girl back to you," Melda sighed. "This will only cause trouble."

"My _mamae_ the quiz-sitter!" Lori proclaimed proudly. "She save world and is a super neat hero!"

"Inquisitor, _da'len_ ," Solas corrected, but his heart swelled with warmth at hearing the way she viewed her mother.

An arrow hissed passed Solas's ear. He stopped and blinked. The next moment Dirthamen was standing several feet from them.

"Stop there, _Fen'Harel_!" snarled a voice behind Solas.

"Lower your bow, Vir, we're not here to attack them," Dirthamen stated.

"Stay where you are!" Melda snapped, drawing out two daggers.

"Mahvy!" Lori cried out. She looked around at all the weapons with confusion. "What happenin'?"

Solas moved the girl behind him, his eyes locked on his nephew. He kept his hand in Lori's. "Dirthamen," it was hard to keep the anger from his voice.

"I would greet you as is common for our People, but I do believe it would only end with a sneer from you, Solas. Lorien's mother is worried about her."

Solas's eyes narrowed. "Is that the real reason you're out here, _evanuris_?"

"What's a even-norris?" Lori asked.

Solas looked at his daughter. "A very bad person," Solas told her in gentle tones.

"Only you would call my master evil!" snarled Vir. "He protects all children."

"Vir." Dirthamen looked at the man behind them. "Enough. I did say we're not here to fight." He turned his dark eyes back on Solas. "I know what you're doing. You can't protect her from what you're going to do. It will destroy everything."

"Guard her," Solas told Melda.

"Yes, Lord Fen'Harel," the woman bowed.

"What going on?" Lori asked as Melda took her arm. "Mavhy?" There was growing distress in her voice.

"She is my daughter, I will protect her and reverse the curse I placed upon this world." Solas pulled out his staff as he walked towards Dirthamen.

"I am not the one who will try to get you to see reason, Solas. But this isn't the way to protect her."

Solas scowled. He twisted his staff around him lightning crackled from the tip.

Dirthamen had vanished from where he'd stood moments before. He stood several paces from where grass smoldered.

"Mahvy?!"

More of Solas's men appeared from the brush and surrounded their group.

"I see," Dirthamen stated. "You had your men following you all the while."

Solas looked at his nephew.

"I suppose your daughter being here isn't going to place a dampener on your plan then, Solas?"

Solas looked towards where Melda held Lori.

"Sully...daddy?" Lori looked at him with total confusion written on her young face.

Solas's heart twisted. He didn't even want Nimwen to see this side of him and his daughter was so young. His gaze snapped back to Dirthamen when he heard the sound of an ironbark dagger being drawn.

"I won't fight you before her." Dirthamen tossed his dagger and staff to the ground. He held up his hands.

"Master!" Vir shouted in disbelief.

"Drop your bow, Vir. No child should witness this."

Vir dropped his bow but he was spitting words of rage in elvish.

Solas didn't lower his staff. "Take them with us," he instructed his men, careful of his wording. "Watch Dirthamen's movement and make certain his bindings are tight."

"Mahvy, what going on?" Lori demanded.

"Everything will be alright, Princess." Dirthamen smiled at the girl as the elves moved behind him and wrapped his arms in rope.

Only once Solas saw the bindings where secure did he straighten and dare turn his back on Dirthamen. He walked back over to his daughter and Melda. "I got her, Melda," he told the girl.

"Why you tie Mahvy?" Lori put her hands on her hips. "That not nice!"

Solas couldn't stop a small smile from pulling at his lips. She looked so much like her mother just then it was hard not to smile. "One day you'll understand, _da'len_." He lifted her off the ground and held her in his arms. She was so tiny despite almost being three.

He started off towards where they were camped by the eluvian near here. He made certain Lori couldn't see "Mahvy," as she kept calling him, but close enough he could keep tabs on the group leading him and his sentinel towards the eluvian.

"Where we go?" Lori asked.

"To a safe place, _da'len_." He looked at her, his heart lighter than he remembered it being. It was harder to focus with her here. But he couldn't…

She turned to him, bright blue eyes looking at him intently. "I have that too," she said, poking his chin dimple.

Solas smiled at her. "Yes, you do, _da'len_." His eyes softened as he looked at her. He wrapped his hand around her small one, holding her still as if she were a baby.

"Mahvy too!" she said. "Right, brother?"

Dirthamen was out of earshot of them, for which Solas was grateful. Yet, the fact she kept calling Dirthamen "brother" didn't feel right to Solas. "He does, but he gets it from his father, my brother," Solas tried to explain. "You see, he's not your brother, but your cousin."

Lori scowled. "Nuh-uh," she shook her head. "Mahvy big brother, _mamae_ say so. She say he have 'nother _mamae_ though, but he special brother." She put her finger to her chin again. "He...ooh, ooh, I 'member! _Mamae_ call him half brother," she beamed, seemingly proud of her recollection.

"I assure you, _da'len_ , he isn't my son. He is my brother's." Solas couldn't understand why Dirthamen had told Nimwen he was Solas's son. Not unless it had been to gain Nimwen's trust.

They had arrived back at the camp around the eluvian. Solas moved so Lori would be guarded by several of his people before telling the guards to take Dirthamen through the eluvian. Vir was to remain in the camp under heavy guard.

Then Solas returned to his daughter. "Listen, _da'len_ , I need to take care of some matters than we can get to know one another. Sound good?" he asked.

"I want Mahvy," Lori murmured, eyeing the other elf.

Solas managed to hide his scowl in a smile. "Mahvy," - he would never get used to calling his nephew that - "has the same matters to see to. _Ir abelas, da'len_." He soothed her soft hair.

"Where you goin', Mahvy?" she called out to him.

It was no use, Dirthamen had already been taken through eluvian and was now bound, waiting for Solas in a place within the crossroads. A place where Solas could seal his nephew and his nephew could never again try to harm the people.

"Everything will be fine, _da'len_ ," Solas promised her. He gave her a gentle hug. "I promise."

"Why he leave?" she whimpered.

"You will understand one day." Solas pulled away from her and stood. "Watch her carefully," he instructed the guards. "And play with her." He moved off to change back into his armor. There was no telling how much of a fight Dirthamen would put up.

"S-Sully, I no wanna 'splore no more!" Lori yelled. "I-I want _mamae_!"

Solas closed his eyes. Her shouts ripped into his heart but he had to ignore them. She would be safe. She would one day live in a world like the one he had always known. She would be _real_.

Solas moved through two eluvians once he was back in full armor. Melda was there. She and the other guards had tied Dirthamen to floor of the room within the crossroads.

Dirthamen just sat there, one leg under him. His eyes were closed; back straight. There was an eerie calm about him.

"He hasn't resisted yet," Melda told him. "Though, I question what he could be planning."

Solas approached his nephew. "Anything, if I know him."

Dirthamen's eyes opened a slit. "Perhaps I plan my own death."

Solas scowled.

"You mean to mock Lord Fen'Harel?" Melda demanded.

"Mock him?" Dirthamen tilted his head to one side. "I suppose the statement could have been taken as such. My apologies. Do you take offence, Solas?"

Solas's scowl depended. "You know what's about to happen and you're making jokes?" Just the lightness of Dirthamen's voice was worrying to Solas at this point.

"I knew, from the moment I first revealed myself to you, we would end up in this situation. I don't fear my death, Solas. I never have," his tone was now even.

"He means to trick you into sparing him," said Melda. "Should I have his mouth gagged?"

Dirthamen cocked an eyebrow at the girl, but didn't otherwise speak.

Solas looked at his nephew. To not fear death…? "No," he told Melda, "I want to hear what he has to say."

"Very well, my lord," Melda bowed.

"Tell me, why did you tell Nimwen and Lori you were my son?"

Dirthamen didn't reply. All he did was look up at Solas, eyes and face devoid of emotion.

"Now, you don't speak." Solas stepped towards his nephew. "Did you ever think on how it would affect them, telling that lie?"

"I am the monster. The one you wish to seal away, to take the power of, Solas. I did what I did, you can view it in whatever light you wish to." Dirthamen closed his eyes. "I've been ready to die for over twenty centuries."

Solas glared at his nephew. That wasn't an answer. "Not until you answer the question. She knows you're Dirthamen, why tell more lies?"

"It's what I do as far as you're concerned. Lie and manipulate the situation to my liking. Why not manipulate the people you're closest to?"

 _Whack_ \- Solas's staff struck Dirthamen's face.

No sound escaped Dirthamen. He straightened, blood trickling from his mouth. His expression was an almost scary calm for someone who'd been struck. "But, wait, you don't view anyone as real in this world, do you, Solas?"

Solas felt his heart twist at the words. His mind flashed to Nimwen, to the people she'd helped, and to his daughter. "They're real enough."

"But not enough for you to spare?" Dirthamen asked.

"Silence." Solas slammed the bladed end of his staff into the leg Dirthamen had out to the side. He heard the the sound of bone breaking.

Dirthamen didn't even blink in reaction to his leg breaking or the blood pooling around him. "If the you of the past looked at the you of present, Solas, I wonder if you would find yourself staring at Elgar'nan."

Solas's eyes widened. He wasn't his brother! He would never enslave anyone. Never do what Dirthamen was implying by those words. Solas stepped forward. His finger touched Dirthamen's forehead.

"I am not my brother," each word was a growl.

Dirthamen's gaze was sad. "Perhaps not. No more so than I am Falon'Din. But, in some ways, you are more a monster now than Elgar'nan ever was." Dirthamen closed his eyes. A single tear rolled down his face. "End it."

"What will you do, Lord Fen'Harel?" Melda asked.

"What I always intended to do," Solas stated. He kept his fingers on Dirthamen's head and looked at his nephew.

Dirthamen didn't move, didn't open his eyes. His breathing even and calm.

Solas's hand shook. He could almost see the little boy he'd helped raise kneeling before him instead of one of the immortal, mage kings. No, Dirthamen was just as evil as the others. He needed to be locked away, to be powerless. To be trapped for all eternity!

Purple smoke like energy moved around Solas's fingertips. It was harder to draw out Dirthamen's powers than it had been Mythal's. Still, soon he would have the knowledge he needed to tear down the Veil.

All this pain, would come to an end.


	21. Chapter 21

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** **Herenya: The end is near my friends. Sorry posting has been a little slow. Just started my first year of college and it's been a bit of a whirlwind getting used to everything.**

 **SHOUT OUTS GO OUT TO:** **teamhalo13, merm307, carelesslazy, and all you wonderful people who have supported us on this crazy ride!**

* * *

Chapter 21:

"For the last time, _yellow_ hair. She has _yellow_ hair!" Nimwen snapped. In all honestly, she shouldn't have been surprised at the results of trying to get information in a whore house. Sera, however, had been persuasive, quite persuasive actually. Persuasive enough Nimwen was actually convinced that she may find information of her daughter's whereabouts at the Pearl. Now, however, her confidence was as shrivelled as this man's liver surely was.

"So…'old on, why you 'ere?" the drunkard slurred.

Nimwen groaned. "Sera, this is pointless."

"Fine, fine, we still can ask One-eyed Pete. He knows everything, sees everything."

"His name is One-eyed Pete, Sera!"

"Don't mean he can't see stuff. He still got one!"

"I can't believe this." With her head in her hands, Nimwen slumped down in one of the shoddy booths. "My baby is gone and I'm in a whorehouse," she cried out of frustration. "How am I supposed to find one elf girl in all of Denerim?!"

"Hey, now." Sera sat down beside her and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll find her. But we gotta keep lookin', yeah? We can't expect the answer to just chuck in through the window."

As if on cue, a loud thunk sounded at the window. A dark shape slid down it before smoke appeared and, the next second, a raven was shaking itself inside the room. "Damned windows, never see the things 'til they hit you in the beak," it was Fear. He flapped over to Nimwen and landed on the table. "As I was saying before that window so rudely interrupted me." he shook his head, fluffing his feathers. "Mortal Soft Shoulder, Solas has Dirthamen!" he shrieked, red eyes wide.

"What?!" Nimwen yelled.

"Wait, hold on, who's Dirth-what-it?" Sera asked.

"Mahvir!"

"But, his name is Mahvi-"

"Where are they, what's he doing with him?" Nimwen demanded, cutting Sera off.

"Oh, yeah, and less important, but still important to a mortal soft shoulder like you, the wolf also has the cake mortal. Little one, light hair, smears cake all over her pink fleshy face. That one."

"Lori? Solas has Lori too?"

"Whoa, holy shit."

Nimwen felt her blood go icy, her heart pounding. "Where are they?"

"Hold on, that thing's a bird, right-?"

"Where are they, Fear?" Nimwen demanded.

Fear fluffed himself up, an almost smug look on his face. He flapped up to Nimwen's shoulder, "Out the door, Mortal Soft Shoulder!" He pointed with his beak.

"Sera, go back to the inn and tell Cullen what's happened," Nimwen said to the rogue.

"Hold up, you're going to follow a _bird_?"

"Yes, I am, and this bird is going to help me get my children back," Nimwen retorted. "Now, go to Cullen as fast as you can."

Without waiting to see if Sera replied, Nimwen ran out of the Pearl. "Where to, Fear?" she asked.

Fear took off from her shoulder. The demon led her through the winding streets and out of the city.

"About time you got her, oaf!" Deceit's white feathers flashed as she joined them.

"On the hill!" Fear told her as he flew ahead. "Dirthamen is within the crossroads now, I fill the energy through my feathers."

Nimwen panted as she followed the two birds. She felt the weight of Shockmaw on her back, and was grateful she'd gone back to the inn to grab it. She didn't know why, but she had a feeling she might need it, and was sad to think she might need it against Solas…

' _No,'_ she shook her head. It wouldn't come to that, but if it did, she had to put Lori and Mahvir above all else. No matter how much it would hurt her, Nimwen's children would always come before her own desires. Soon Denerim was behind her, and she was racing up the hills behind Fear and Deceit.

"How much farther?" she called out.

The moment she crested the hill she saw a camp resting around an eluvian.

"That should answer that!" Fear shot forward. His claws struck the closest elf.

Deceit joined him and the two ravens battled the poor guard to the ground. Blood spilled from under the guard's helm, his cries of pain filled the air.

Nimwen took Shockmaw from her back. It felt good to hold her staff in two hands once more. She twisted it, looking for any other signs of danger.

The elves raced from the tents and towards the sounds of guard's cries.

Fear looked up from the now silent guard, his peak dripping with blood. He shot into the air, shrieking, "Know Fear!" Darkness swallowed one of the nearest elves.

Several paused, but others turned towards Nimwen. "She commands it, kill-" The shout was cute short by an arrow through the elf's neck.

More arrows hailed down on the group from several directions.

Nimwen had no time to see who was firing. She summoned a wave of frost, freezing an oncoming fighter. An archer she shot with a bolt from Shockmaw, another taken out with a stonefist. Before she had a chance to fight more, the rest had been taken out by the unknown assailants.

"Who are you?" Nimwen demanded, circling with her staff raised.

Several figures moved from the shadows of the camp. The leader lowered her hood. "So we meet again," stated a familiar voice. The elf folded her arms across her chest then barked at one of the others, "Get that fool Vir freed from his bindings and hit him for me. He let Dirthamen get taken without a fight." She then turned to another of the elves. "Tell the one with girl he can come out now, the fighting is over."

Both bowed to her and raced off.

" _Aneth ara_ , Atisha," Nimwen said to the sentinel.

"This is far from a safe place," Atisha stated in reply. She turned her gaze back to the two as they returned. She then struck Vir over the head with her bow. "You idiot! You were supposed to protect Master not let the wolf take him!"

Vir ducked and guarded his head. " _Ir abelas_. He ordered me to lower my bow. What was I to do?"

Atisha glared at him. "Fight to keep him free."

"Forget it, where is Mahvir and Lori?" Nimwen asked.

"The _da'len_ is here." One of the elves stepped forward. He held Lori in his arms. "Seems your _mamae_ came after you, _da'len_."

"Mahvir was taken through the eluvians. I overheard the higher ups in the group saying something about Fen'Harel finishing what was started twenty centuries ago," another of the sentinels said. "The two ravens can find him." He nodded to where Fear and Deceit were moving between the corpses.

"Lori!" Nimwen cried as she raced to her daughter.

" _Mamae!_ "

Nimwen scooped the girl into her arms, holding her tight to her chest. "Oh, baby I'm so sorry, _mamae_ won't ever let you go I swear."

" _Mamae,_ too tight."

"What-oh." Nimwen realized how hard she was holding Lori, combined with her new metal arm. " _Ir abelas_." she said as she loosened her hold.

" _Mamae_ , Sully took Mahvy," a teary Lori said. "He no say what happen, but I want Mahvy."

"We're going to get him back, don't worry, _da'len_ ," Nimwen assured her.

"I thought Sully nice, but he scare me," Lori murmured.

"Oh, sweetie…" Nimwen felt a hammer to her heart. Why did it have to be this way? In another world… "Don't worry, Lori, this is all going to be over soon."

"Guard the eluvian," Atisha barked orders at some of the sentinels. "Vir, you're coming with me." She turned.

A shriek filled the air and was mirrored by another. The two ravens leapt into the sky, feathers fluffed. "Hurt, hurt, his leg, broken, bleeding, pain!" Fear cried out.

" _Fenedhis_ ," Atisha spat the curse.

"You," Nimwen said as she approached one of the sentinels. "Take her, don't let her out of your sight."

" _M-mamae_?" Lori stammered as she was handed to the man.

"It's going to be okay, _da'len_ ," Nimwen said, stroking her daughter's hair. "I'll be right back, so, you be good, okay?"

"No, _mamae_ no go!" Lori pleaded.

Nimwen forced herself to turn away, to block out the sounds of the girl's cries. She joined Atisha and Vir, Shockmaw held tight in her grasp. "Let's go," she said, voice steeled.

Atisha nodded. "Fear, Deceit," her voice was polite to the two ravens. "Will you guide us to Master?"

Fear shot through the eluvian, Deceit behind him.

Atisha followed the birds through.

"Never thought I would return to the crossroads," Vir whispered before he stepped through as well.

Nimwen grunted in reply. The crossroads were very much how she remembered them. The twisting paths and vivid colors created a wondrous scene. However, she could no longer appreciate it, not after her experiences there. "Keep your guard up," she told the other elves. She started down the path eyes peeled for signs of attack.

Atisha gave her a sidelong look. She had already notched an arrow and was moving after the ravens.

"This way. Hurry, hurry!" Fear called back to them.

"I don't think she likes you giving the orders," Vir whispered to Nimwen as they followed after.

"At this point, I don't really care," Nimwen responded.

Suddenly an arrow flew just passed Nimwen's head.

"Guards around the eluvian!" Atisha called back to them. "Vir, create a distraction."

Vir rushed forward, firing arrows as he went.

Atisha moved to one side. A path grew at her feet as she raced around to another platform. The path vanished behind her. Then she reappeared from above, firing down on the guards before she landed between them. She wrapped her bow around one's neck. A soft pop sounded.

Nimwen wasted no time. With a wave of her staff, she sent a stream of ice that smashed into a line of archers. She fought with more ferocity than she had in years. She would not be held up by these sentries. They were nothing. They would not stand between her and her family.

"Leave!" she yelled, sending a stonefist into another guard's head. "Let me through!"

Untapped rage surged through her. Rage at these pest in her way. Rage at Solas who would tear apart his own family. Rage at herself for not being able to stop him. Rage at the world for making her family broken.

With an animalistic shout, she called upon Pull of the Rift to force the remaining guards together. She finished them all with a blizzard so strong it left them nothing but frozen statues. "Move!" she snapped to her companions.

Atisha raced through the eluvian. Fear and Deceit behind her. Vir switched to his daggers and moved after them.

Nimwen sprinted down the path, her breaths coming out in pants. They finally entered a new room. When she saw the new line of defenders all she thought was: _'Attack!'_

"Get out of my way!" she yelled, shooting frost and lightning as one.

Atisha and Vir were at her side. Atisha fired arrow after arrow on the new group. Vir darted forward, slashing through the enemies as a blur.

At the far end of the room a familiar figure stood, his back to them. Purple smoke was moving out around Solas. He looked over his shoulder, the movement slow. One of his eyes was glazed as if he couldn't really see what was happening or having problems focusing. The other gave off a soft purple glow.

"Dirthamen!" Fear shot towards Solas. "Release him, Wolf!"

Solas's lifted his hand. Magic caught Fear. The raven shrieked in rage as he was blasted back.

At once, her fiery anger disappeared, blown away as if by her own blizzard. In its wake was a cold horror. "You're killing him!" she shrieked. All she saw tattered robes, glowing eyes. Her family dying before her. "Stop it, Solas!" she begged. "Stop it, please! He's your son!"

As if struck by a shock, Solas staggered back from Mahvir. He collapsed, hands pressed his ears and nails drawing blood. A scream tore from Solas's lips. Raw magic exploded out from him, rushing through room.

* ~ x ~*

Time seemed to stop around Solas. He felt as the power poured into him. He could hear the echo of fighting behind and turned his head. His eyes fell over an empty space then shadows of people appeared, ghosts, not there; yet, there in the same instance. What was this?

He turned his gaze back on Dirthamen. His nephew's eyes were lidded as more energy poured from him into Solas. He couldn't pull the power faster. Then, Solas felt ringing pierce his ears. His vision blurred and buckled.

Solas blinked. No longer was he standing in the same place as before. Energy raced across the sky far more powerful than when the breach happened. This was - Solas's eyes widened - it was his plan seceding. He was watching as the world was ripped apart. Then the images faded and he was looking at Dirthamen once more. His fingers were still pressed to his nephew's forehead.

Dirthamen's breathing was labored, his skin ghostly, but not yet the shade of obsidian it would become when all the power was drained from him. Sweat dripped from Dirthamen's face.

Solas's vision buckled again. The world he looked over was no longer the one he had seen before. It was barren land, Spirits twisted to demons, skeletons moved, but there was no sign of elvhen life anywhere.

"This is the future which awaits if you continue down this path," Dirthamen's voice echoed around Solas, weak and frail. "Believe what you will of me, but this. There is no future here for the People or for you."

Solas blinked and turned. It wasn't true. Nimwen- The second he thought of her, he was watching as the world tore her and Lori apart. No! It was a trick.

Dirthamen appeared back before him. But they were still in the barren land. His nephew looked at him with sorrow. "I don't have the power to create a false future, Solas. These are your visions. You are the one taking my powers in you now. I am a ghost of the past telling you this. A vision lapsed from one time onto another. That is my curse, the knowledge you seek."

Solas gasped. The air was too thick here to breath. It wasn't Elvhenan. It wasn't true.

"Open your eyes, Solas." He felt Dirthamen's hand on his. "Listen to your beloved."

Solas snapped back to the present. The sounds of battle now echoed behind him.

"Master!" a woman shouted.

An arrow was cut down before it could hit Solas.

Solas turned his head. The images were overwhelming. The sounds echoed from the past to the future, blending together in a blur of noise. The images were the same. He couldn't make sense of it all.

A familiar figure blurred through time through the chaos. His vision swam and he forced himself to focus. It was Nimwen!

"Dirthamen!" A blur of black shot towards Solas. "Release him, Wolf!"

Solas lifted his free hand and shot a wave of magic at the raven.

"You're killing him!" Nimwen shrieked. "Stop it, Solas! Stop it, please! He's your son!"

The moment, he heard the words his fingers slipped from Dirthamen's forehead. Images, sounds, an overwhelming amount of sensations crashed down upon Solas. He screamed. Pain echoed through time as he struck the ground. His nails dug into his head, hands over his ears in an attempt to block the sound.

It was of no use.

The images slowed.

Solas found himself standing in a familiar part of the crossroads. It wasn't overgrown like the last time he had been here. Mythal, an elvhen once more, stood near to the eluvian.

A soft sound of heavy breathing filled the air.

Mythal turned from the eluvian and moved down the steps. Solas followed her path and his eyes widened. Dirthamen leaned against one of the trees. No longer was he dressed in the tattered robes with short hair. He wore finery. The purple robes hugged a healthy frame. His long, black hair draped around him almost falling to the ground.

Solas moved towards the pair, curious to what was happening.

"Dirthamen?" Mythal's voice was soft as she touched Dirthamen's face. "What happened?" She lifted his chin. "Is that-?"

Solas took a shocked step back, his eyes wide as he stared at the cracking blood coating Dirthamen's face. It couldn't be. It was the _vallaslin_ of Falon'Din.

"What happened?" Mythal repeated, her voice stern.

"Mother, I need the truth. Who was he? The man you went to that night. Who is my father?! Why am not Falon'Din's full brother? His twin. Why did you never tell us?!"

"Dirthamen, listen to me."

Dirthamen's eyes glazed. He shook his head and backed away from Mythal staring at her as tears slid down his face. "He doesn't know," he whispered.

"Dirthamen, calm down. You're not thinking." Mythal reached for her son.

Dirthamen's eyes glazed again, More pain spread across his face. His eyes cleared as if he were being drawn back to the present. "Elgar'nan suspected I wasn't his," he whispered.

"Never." Mythal wrapped her hand around his. "Dirthamen, he never knew. Neither of them knew. I was upset that night. Elgar'nan was enraged I was expecting a child. I sought comfort with my closest friend. It was a mistake."

Solas stepped back in the same moment Dirthamen did. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Your closest…" Dirthamen whispered. "You slept with his _brother_! With the wolf."

"It was a mistake. They can never know." Mythal seemed to almost be pleading with Dirthamen now.

Solas felt horror wrapping around him. This was-It couldn't be the truth.

"What if I had been born with pale eyes? Anything of Uncle's that Elgar'nan didn't share?" Dirthamen demanded. His eyes glazed again before he was snapped back. He started backing away from Mythal again, horror and pain on his face now. "You're no mother," he whispered.

"Dirthamen." She reached for him again. "I was young. I didn't know what to do."

"Tell the truth," Dirthamen told her. "No matter how hard it was. You could have told all four of us the truth."

"It would have destroyed them." Mythal touched his arm. "Your blood father can never know he has a child. Elgar'nan can never know I betrayed him back then, because I couldn't take his rage. It was a _mistake_."

No! Solas squeezed his eyes shut. No, more! Horror rang in his ears and filled every fiber of his body. He feared to open his eyes, feared more of these visions.

Then, he opened his eyes and found himself kneeling on the ground within the crossroads once more. The sounds of battle had died away. He couldn't hear the echo of it. He looked down from the ceiling and his gaze locked on Dirthamen. He felt the horror ring through him again. It wasn't…

Dirthamen looked up. Blood trickled from his mouth, his eyes half closed. The moment their eyes locked, Solas felt his heart stop with numb horror.

Every action, every crime, every elvhen enslaved, all of it. All this time Solas had compared Dirthamen to his father. But his father wasn't Elgar'nan. Solas felt sick as he stared into Dirthamen's eyes. He saw himself reflected there. Saw the acts committed by Dirthamen in that reflection. It was _Solas's_ fault, not Elgar'nan's.

Dirthamen closed his eyes. Tears slid down his face as pain spread across his features. " _Ir abelas,_ Solas." Then, Dirthamen was gone. A pool of blood remained where Dirthamen had been.

Solas turned, his eyes still wide. A trail of blood led towards the eluvian.

The room spun around Solas. Solas fell forward. His necklace slid from his neck and clattered into Dirthamen's blood. He remained there, on his hands and knees, staring unseeing at the blood. What had he done?

* ~ x ~ *

In a blink of the eye it was over. Nimwen watched as Solas's hands slid from his ears, his shoulders slumped. He and Mahvir were looking at one another. Solas seemed numb with shock, frozen there, staring at his son.

Mahvir's face twisted into one of pain. Tears slid from his eyes. " _Ir abelas,_ Solas," the words echoed through a room, now stopped in stunned silence. Then, Mahvir was gone. Blood fell in a line heading for the eluvian,

Solas turned, his eyes wide before he looked back at the pool of blood before him. Solas's hands fell to the ground as his wolf jaw fell from around his neck. It clattered into the pool of blood.

"Solas!" Nimwen ran to him, her heart thundering in her chest. She knelt beside him. Hesitantly, she put her hands on his shoulders. "Solas?"

Solas didn't move at first. Then looked towards Nimwen, horror seemed to be frozen on his face and he turned his gaze back to the ground as if he hadn't seen her at all.

" _Vhenan_." Nimwen struggled to sound calm, but she could feel herself on the verge of tears. " _Vhenan, ir isala ne dirth ma._ "

"I-" he whispered. " _Ir abelas, ma vhenan_." He closed his eyes. "I will face whatever judgement the Divine and Inquisition see fit." He sounded broken. His long fingers touched the fallen wolf jaw, but he made no move to pick it up.

" _Venavis._ " The dam was breaking, her calm facade was cracking. "Don't you dare put this all on me." Her hands, flesh and metal, tightened their grip on his shoulder. "Was this worth it, Solas? Was _any_ of this worth it? Tell me!" she demanded. "You almost killed your son, _my_ son, for what? For a world that's been gone for eons? Was it worth it, Solas?" Her face felt wet, and she was trembling.

Solas flinched. He didn't try to speak, just stared at the necklace.

"Talk to me!" she sobbed. "I can't stand the silence, the secrecy, not anymore. If you ever loved me than fucking say something!" She smacked his chest and dissolved into weeping. She cared not how she must have looked, how weak the Inquisitor had become. She just didn't care anymore.

"It was the only world I knew," he spoke at last, voice soft, that of a stunned man. "The world I had destroyed. I thought I was doing the right thing." His voice broke off. A note of horror seemed to trimble in the words, his eyes wider, still locked on the blood. " _Ir abelas_. Can you ever forgive me, _vhenan_?" His shoulders shook in her hold.

She looked up and saw through her blurred vision at the remorse and sorrow in his eyes. " _Ma lath_." She gently cupped his face in her hands. "No matter what comes, you will forever hold a place in my heart. _Ne tel'din'an u_. Not while I am here."

He closed his eyes, tears fell down his face. Solas reached up to her and drew her into an embrace. " _Ma serannas, ma vhenan_." His lips touched hers.

She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him as close to her as possible.

"All right, I think I am leaving." The sound of Atisha walking towards the eluvian followed. "Vir!" she snapped.

Vir jumped. "Y-yeah?"

"Stop with those tears, we have a mission to complete!"

"Right!" Vir raced after her. "Where did Fear and Deceit go?"

"They followed Master. We're unlikely to find any of them easily. Not if you keep turning back to watch the wolf and his mate." _Whack_ \- the sound of wood hitting flesh followed.

"Ouch!" Vir yelped.

"I… think I'll follow them," said an awkward Melda.

"Solas," Nimwen ignored the underlings. "What happened to Mahvir, where did he go?"

"I," - he hesitated and looked at the blood trail - "don't know," he confessed.

"We need to find him," Nimwen said adamantly.

Solas picked up the wolf jaw from the blood. He nodded and stood, holding out his hand to Nimwen.

She slipped her silverite hand into his.

Solas helped her to her feet. "Dagna's work?" he asked, eying her new hand. Then, he frowned. "No not just Dagna there are Fade enchantments within," he muttered.

"A collaboration between her and Mahvir," Nimwen explained.

He nodded, expression unreadable. "Let's go."

* * *

 _Ne tel'din'an u_.- you will not die alone.

 _Vhenan, ir isala ne dirth ma_ \- I need you to talk to me


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22:

Nimwen and Solas passed through the _eluvian_ , still holding hands. The sight of raised bows had her reaching for Shockmaw. "Stand down!" she commanded.

"Lower your bows, you idiots!" Atisha snapped. "We have more important things to worry about than the Dread Wolf!" She strode through the small group of sentinels. "Leave the girl with her mother. We're moving out!" she barked.

Vir shifted and turned to Nimwen. "It was nice to travel with for a time, Lady Nimwen." He held out his hand to her.

" _Ma serannas_ , Vir," she said, taking his hand.

He shook her hand. "May your dreams be guarded and journey safe." He bowed his head to her before hurrying after Atisha.

"My lady." The sentinel holding Lori stepped up to Nimwen.

" _Mamae_!"

"Lori." Nimwen reached out and took hold of the little girl. "Are you okay?"

"Sully?"

Nimwen saw Lori was looking at Solas with wary eyes. "Yes, his name is Solas," Nimwen explained, putting the girl on her hip. "He's…" Before she said it, Nimwen looked to Solas, wanting to get his confirmation before she spoke.

Solas nodded, eyes almost pained as he looked at Lori.

"He's your daddy, baby," Nimwen said.

"R-really?"

"Yes, and he loves you very much."

"He does?"

"Yes, he feels really bad he scared you earlier. He just… doesn't know how to be a daddy yet. But he's going to learn, because he wants to be the best daddy you'll ever have." She turned to Solas. "Right, _vhenan_?"

"Right." Solas stepped up to them and took one of Lori's hands in his. " _Ir abelas, da'len_. It wasn't my intention to scare you."

"Hey, Lori," Nimwen leaned in and whispered to the girl. "Daddy's still a bit nervous, why don't you give him a hug?"

Lori nodded, and reached across and used her other arm to hold his neck. "Hi, daddy," she said.

"Hello, Lori," he whispered, eyes half closed.

"Lori, my arms are getting tired," Nimwen lied. "Would you mind if daddy held you for a bit?"

"Well… if you say so."

Nimwen snickered at the almost haughty response coming from her two year-old. "What do you say, mind taking her for a bit?" Nimwen asked.

Solas looked from her to Lori; then, nodded. He carefully took the girl into his arms.

Vir raced up the slope towards Nimwen. "Lady Nimwen." Vir stopped panting. "I just thought I should run back to tell you the trail goes cold halfway back to the city."

"Where is Mahvir going?" Nimwen pondered.

"Mahvy! Mahvy!" Lori yelled. "You gotta find him, _mamae_ , he hurt."

"What do you mean, _da'len_?"

Tears welled up in Lori's eyes. "He-he got blood here," she pointed to her lips. "A-and he walk funny. I yell, but he no listen. He go-g-go…" Her face grew red as she burst into tears, crying into Solas's shoulder. "I-I-I-I want br-brother!" she sobbed.

Solas shifted. "He's leg is broken," he informed Nimwen without meeting her gaze.

"And here I thought all that blood was from something else." Vir shot a glare towards Solas. "Atisha said we would find Master. But, I think he was heading back to the inn and she's wary of _shemlen_ cities."

"B-broken?!" The news made Lori cry even harder.

"Lori, Lori, it's okay," Nimwen assured her, wincing at the high-pitched wailing. She rubbed the toddler's back. "It's okay, _da'len,_ we're going to find him."

"Mahvy's broken!" Lori screeched.

"He's not broken, _da'len_ ," Solas tried to explain. "His leg is broken, the bone, not him."

"R-really?" Lori hiccuped.

"Really, sweetheart," Nimwen nodded. "We're going to find Mahvy and everything's going to be all right, so, please calm down, Lori."

The girl sniffled, tears and snot running down her face.

"Which inn were you staying at, _vhenan_?" Solas asked.

"This way!" Vir told him, ignoring the fact Solas's question had been for Nimwen. Vir raced down the slope.

Solas scowled.

"The Gnawed Noble Inn," Nimwen responded.

"P-pretty soup?" Lori asked.

"Yes, Lori, they have pretty soup there," Nimwen smiled.

Solas followed after Vir. The group arrived at the edge of the city where Atisha and the other sentinels were waiting.

"The blood trail stopped half way here, but the direction seemed like he was heading for the city," she informed them. "My group will move off and search elsewhere for our master." She shot a glare at Solas, eyes narrowed. "Here, wolf." She held out a cloak to him. "So you don't draw attention to the fact we ancient elves still exist."

Solas hesitated and then shifted Lori in his arms so he could take the cloak. " _Ma serannas_."

"Pretty," Lori gasped as she eyed the cloak. She groped with her tiny hands until she took hold of the fabric, and pulled it over her head. "Imma rogue." She grinned from beneath the cloak.

Solas chuckled. "I hope that isn't what you grow up to be, _da'len_. May I see the cloak?" he asked.

"Mine," Lori giggled.

Solas shook his head.

Atisha rolled her eyes. "Kids." Her gaze flashed to Vir.

"I'm not a kid!" Vir's face turned bright red.

"We're moving out!" She moved off into the field once more. "Fan out and see if Master went elsewhere!" she ordered.

"Lori, daddy needs his cloak," Nimwen said as she pried the material out of the girl's hands.

The toddler pouted. "Fine."

"Get used to this, _vhenan_ ," Nimwen joked as she put the cloak around his shoulders.

" _Ma serannas_. I will try. It's only been eighty centuries since there was a child in my life." He gave her a weak smile.

She smiled gently at him, putting a hand to his cheek. "Don't worry, you have plenty of time to catch up," she said.

He nodded and touched her hand. He walked into the city.

The city was much how Nimwen had last seen it, nothing had changed. They passed through the market and made their way to the inn. Just as they stepped inside they found Cullen and Sera in the main room.

"Inquisitor-" Cullen's eyes narrowed at the sight of Solas.

"Commander," Solas greeted Cullen with a curt nod as if sensing the sudden tension in the room. "Sera."

"Fenny," Sera glared.

"Fenny?" Solas scowled.

"Well, that's your name, yeah?" Sera crossed her arms. "So, what you doin' here? And why you holdin' Lil' Inky? Why is he holding Lil' Inky?" Sera asked Nimwen.

"Because I let him," Nimwen replied curtly.

"I have a feeling much has happened," Cullen said, eyeing Solas with suspicion.

Solas sighed. "I am not going to blow up the world now, Commander."

"That's it? Just like that. _'Oh I'm the big Wolf Man and I'm gonna bring back our people, blablabla. Oh, wait, nevermind, I take it all back!'_ that simple?" Sera didn't look convinced.

Solas's scowl depended. His eyes narrowed a little. Light purple glow started to come over his eyes. "No."

"Solas." Nimwen's voice was quick and sharp. "Not in front of Lori."

He blinked. His eyes returned to normal. " _Ir abelas_ ," he muttered eyes more than half closed in a slight pained look.

"Perhaps, we should speak in private?" Cullen asked.

"Yes, let's," Nimwen said quietly.

Solas nodded. He followed behind Nimwen towards their rooms. When Nimwen entered the main part of the rooms, it was to see several items on the table.

"What is this?" Nimwen asked.

"Were those there when we left?" asked Cullen.

"I dunno," Sera shrugged.

"Dirthamen," Solas whispered the name. He set Lori on the ground.

Two packages were stacked on the table. Beside them, the sweater Nimwen had given Mahvir was neatly folded a sealed letter placed on top of it. Her name was written across the envelope in the neatest script she'd ever seen.

"He…" She felt her heart tear at the sight of the sweater, months of love and labor. She picked up the letter, and carefully opened it.

 _Lady Nimwen,_

 _I knew from the time you sang the lullaby to me, this was the future which awaited us. I wanted to tell you not to tell Solas, but knew it wouldn't make a difference. I always knew there was no future where you could have both of us; yet, I couldn't bring myself to tell you this. Our family fractured too long ago for everything to be repaired in a moment of confession. Solas will eventually see me as me or he will forever hate me. Those futures remain uncertain._

 _What I do know, is the future where he is with you, the one where you two are together and happy, was the best overall future. He loves you more than anything else in this world. Never think of yourself as less and don't you dare compare yourself to Mythal again. You are far better a mother than she ever could hope to be._

 _I will forever be watching over our People. My time to lead them passed long ago, but I know your future and your past will always act as a beacon to our People. You are hope, your kind heart and how you see the good where others, myself included, only see the pain and darkness will always shine through that darkness. Never lose your light, Lady Nimwen. Never stop believing you have a future, a bright one with your beloved._

 _I ask you not to try and find me. If we are fated to meet again, it will happen of its own accord. If we are fated to never meet again, then remember only that the moments with you, made me see what a real mother is like and for this I thank you._

 _May your dreams be guarded and your journey safe._

 _Dirthamen_

 _P.S. The package contains Lorien's birthday gifts._

By the time she neared the end of the letter, the words had gone blurry. She put a hand to her mouth as she let this set in. If her heart had been torn before, now she felt it shatter. "No," she murmured. She no longer trusted her legs, and slumped down into a chair. "No, no, no! How could he do this?"

"He left, didn't he?" Solas asked, voice even.

Nimwen couldn't speak. She thrust the letter into Solas's hands and buried her face in her palms. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair! How could he believe he had no place with them? They could have worked out their problems, Nimwen was certain of it. There had to be another way, there was always another way.

" _Mamae_?"

Nimwen looked up and saw Lori staring at her with concern. The woman pulled her daughter into her lap, and held her as though she were an anchor in a storm.

The sound of Solas folding the letter followed. " _Vhenan_ , he's right. Our-my family fractured long ago. There is too much history, especially given all that just happened between us. And," Solas trailed off.

"We could have worked through it," Nimwen insisted. "You and I worked through it. It's not too late, our family can be together. I won't rest until I have both my children again," she swore.

Solas sighed. "But, he's not a child, Nimwen. He's over eighty centuries old."

"Don't you talk to me about age," Nimwen snapped at him.

"Still, Inquisitor, it's kinda weird, yeah?" Sera said.

"He may not be my blood, but he's Lori's brother and I've come to see him as a friend and a son," Nimwen stated. "I have never turned my back on my friends or my family, and I won't start now."

"What are you going to do? Rush off after his sentinels to find him? Not even they can track him if he doesn't wish to be found. You can't trick a man who sees and knows everything. Something I still seem to be learning." Solas rubbed his eyes.

"I-I…" With every moment, her hope deflated, as she realized the truth in Solas's words. "He's-he's really gone, isn't he?" The world around her felt dull, gray. Not too long ago, she felt having Solas and Lori with her would restore the peace in her world. Now, she had them both, but, once again, something was lost to her.

"And, holy bones, you are older than dirt, Solas! Geeze, you like, are King Cradle-Snatcher, aren't ya?"

Solas's eyebrow twitched in irritation. "I am well aware of my age, Sera. My thanks for stating it bluntly."

"Daddy?" Lori asked.

It took a moment for Solas to look at the girl. "Yes, _da'len_?"

"Is Mahvy gone for real?"

"He did state in his letter there is possible future we cross paths again," Solas told both the little girl and Nimwen.

"He be at my birthday?"

Nimwen sighed. She realized her daughter needed her for support, not to see her mother in a state. She composed herself and looked her girl in the eye. "I'm sorry, _da'len_ , but Mahvy won't be at your birthday," she said, stroking the girl's hair. "But, he loves you very much, and worked really hard on a present for you, okay?"

"B-but, I want Mahvy." The sheer sadness and disappointment on the child's face felt more painful than Nimwen's own heartbreak.

"I know, _da'len_ ," she whispered. She hugged Lori again so the toddler wouldn't see the cracks in her mother's mask.

Solas bowed his head, but didn't otherwise speak.

"What now, Inquisitor?" Cullen finally spoke up.

Nimwen let out a shuddering breath. "I don't know," she admitted.

"I'm hungry," Lori suddenly proclaimed.

A small smile appeared on Solas's face. "That answers that question, _vhenan_."

Nimwen returned the smile. "How about we see if they're still serving pumpkin soup, what do you say, _da'len_?"

"Pretty soup!" Lori clapped.

"I'm going to check on Franne," Cullen said, making his way to his and his wife's room.

"I'm outta here, got a date," Sera added.

"A date, with whom, may I ask?" Solas cocked an eyebrow at Sera.

The rogue snorted. "Out of the loop, eh, old man? I got a date with the cutest Arcanist this side of Thedas." She winked. Without another word, Sera ran to the window. She thrust it open and leapt through, shouting a hurried "good-bye" as she disappeared into Denerim.

Solas scowled, a look of disapproval at the way the rogue departed on his face. Then, he frowned. "She's with Dagna?" he asked Nimwen.

"I was surprised too, but, as it turns out, they were made for each other," Nimwen chuckled.

Solas shook his head. "She always did hate her own kind."

"Hey, now, they're in love. Be happy Sera found someone who can handle her...zany tendencies."

"I am quite happy for her. Just making an idle observation."

"Well, you can make idle observations over dinner," Nimwen said as she stood, Lori on her hip. "The pumpkin soup is quite good...you'll love it," she said, heart panging at the memory of who told her that.

"If it is anything like butter squash soup, I don't doubt that, _vhenan_." Solas followed her out of the room.

* ~ Two Months Later ~ *

Dirthamen skirted the edge of the crowds in Val Royeaux. His limp heavy and leg throbbing from the long trip here. He grimaced at the thought within the day he would be heading back to Denerim. Yet, at the same time, each moment away from his son made his heart and mind flicker with worry. He knew his son wouldn't pass while he was here, but the knowledge did little to aid him.

A few passing elves paused and nodded to him before hurrying on their way. It was the same. There were the People who knew who he was and those who just saw a poor elvhen limping through the crowd.

His breathing grew labored with each passing second. He paused, his gaze falling over the bench under the apple tree he and Nimwen had stopped at. It was taken this time by a young couple. He smiled and continued on his way. He had a party to hide in the shadows of after all.

It took him longer than he had hoped to make it to the grand cathedral. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he moved up the closest staircase, heading for the floor Lorien would be on. He kept to the shadows when he heard the echo of Cassandra's voice. When it started to become a reality, he moved so he was hidden from sight.

Sure enough, Cassandra appeared with a dwarf. The two of them seemed to be arguing.

A gasp came from Deceit who was perched, as always on, Dirthamen's staff. "That's Vair-Vair!" She made to fly off his staff, but Dirthamen flicked his wrist. "Dirthy, I want to talk to Vair-Vair. Dir-" She gagged on his name.

"For the last time, Varric, that is _not_ how it happened!" Cassandra snapped.

"Come now, Seeker, what's wrong with a little embellishment if it makes you look good?" the dwarf smirked.

"Saying I beat an entire legion of undead with a chicken leg while wearing an Orlesian ball gown, is taking it far past embellishment!"

Varric let out a dramatic sigh. "You crush my artistic abilities."

Cassandra let out a groan as the rest of the room snickered.

"Uncle Vary!" Lorien squealed as she toddled over to the dwarf.

"Sage, Maker's Mercy, kid you're getting so big," Varric grinned as he hugged the child.

Dirthamen shifted a little in the shadows. He moved his weight off his bad leg and leaned against the wall.

"It's Vair-Vair." Deceit gave a choked caw. "Please, let me talk-"

Dirthamen took hold of the bird and stuffed her into his bag.

"All right, now that everyone's here, why don't we get started?" Nimwen suggested. "Solas, can you get the cake?"

Dirthamen tried not snicker at the thought of Solas getting the cake. He knew Solas loved sweets just as much as his daughter did.

Solas moved into Dirthamen's view and set down the cake at the table. He no longer wore his old armor instead wore a plain long sleeved shirt. Dirthamen eyed the necklace Solas wore. He still had that old thing? It was laughable considering how young Dirthamen and Falon had been when they had found the broken jaw in the snow.

"Cake!" Lorien squealed as she clapped excitedly. Her hair was curled with two pink ribbons tied on either side of her head. Her dress was bright green with a large pink bow on it matching her hair ribbons.

"Slow down, dear, you have to blow out the candles first." Leliana smiled. She wore the same fanciful robes Dirthamen had seen her in when they first met, but this time the Divine had forgone her large hat.

"Cake," Lorien beamed.

The cake was quite the sight. It was large enough to feed all those present, and had bright pink frosting. Dirthamen also noticed there seemed to be insects made of frosting scattered along the cake. Bright colored butterflies, shiny beetles, even fuzzy green caterpillars all inhabited the pink planes of the cake. In the center were three candles, that with a snap of her fingers, Nimwen set them alight.

"Everyone ready to sing?" she asked.

"Oh, is it time already? Do make sure to hold me up so everyone can hear my lovely voice."

Nimwen laughed as she picked up the glowing blue crystal hanging from her neck. "We can hear you just fine, Dorian."

"Hiya, Uncle Dory," Lorien waved to the crystal.

Dirthamen couldn't help but to smile. He kept his eyes trained on his sister, watching as she moved between the others. The bright, happy smile on her face. When the others started to sing to her, he joined in, whispering the words so as not to draw attention to himself. His gaze flickered to Solas.

Solas shifted a little during the song. He didn't sing and Dirthamen couldn't stop himself from chuckling. The only reason Dirthamen knew this song was having been awake in this new world for as long as he had. Solas looked completely lost.

After everyone finished singing, Lorien took a deep breath and with all her might, blew out all three candles. The group cheered as the cake was taken by Thom to be cut.

"Okay, you ready for presents?" Nimwen asked her.

Lorien's face lit up. "Presents! Presents!" she squealed.

"She getting the presents." Deceit popped her head out of Dirthamen's bag.

"Stay quiet," Fear snapped his beak at her.

Dirthamen moved a little, ignoring both ravens. He watched as one by one, his sister was presented with an array of presents. From Sera, she received a basket of cookies shaped like an array of animals and painted with enough frosting and fixings to make Dirthamen's teeth ache. From Thom, Lorien was gifted a rocking halla, carved with obvious care and ornate designs. From Cassandra, she got her a small toy sword, and, Varric, it seemed wrote her a story book.

"A book!" Deceit struggled in Dirthamen's pack. "Vair-Vair wrote her a book! I want a personal book. Why does that mortal get one from Vair-Vair?"

Dirthamen hit the raven on the head. He stuffed her back into the bag. "Be quiet," he hissed.

The one known as Cole, gave her a sunhat with a floppy brim and a daisy embroidered on the top, which Lori immediately put on.

"Give her mine, next," Dorian insisted.

"Keep your pant on, _kadan_ ," the Iron Bull teased.

"They are quite on, thank you. I would just like to hear her get it before Maevaris drags me back to the wretched meeting I should be at."

"All right, all right," Nimwen said, setting down the bright summer dress Josephine had sent from Antiva. She picked up the box labelled from the magister and placed it in Lorien's lap. "This one is from Uncle Dorian, you remember what to say?"

" _Ma serannas,_ Uncle Dory," Lori recited, just as she had for everyone else's gift.

"You're quite welcome, love."

Lorien went to work ripping away the colorful paper wrapped around the box. Once it was gone, she opened the container and let out a gasp. "Pretty!"

"Oh, it's precious," Nimwen cooed as she lifted up the toddler-sized mage's robes. They were made in the Imperium style and fashioned out of light blue fabric.

"She's bound to have some magic in her," Dorian said through the crystal. "And even if she doesn't, we can't have her inheriting her's father's dreadful fashion sense."

Dirthamen chuckled. He could just see Solas's scowl from where he stood.

"We can't all have outfits that make more noise than we do, Dorian," Solas retorted.

"Maker man, you are with a Comtesse and still you fight me on this," Dorian sighed. "I'm not even there and I know you're wearing a potato sack."

Dirthamen had to place his arm against the wall for support. He couldn't breath through his muffled laughter. That was brilliant.

Solas's scowl depended. "At least, I didn't alert all the venatori we were there before we were ready to attack them."

"Now, now, children, let's all get along. We're not even through all the gifts," Nimwen said.

"Perhaps, we can do mine next?" Leliana suggested.

"Huh, wonder what kind of gift you can get from the Divine?" Varric pondered.

"I don't see a box anywhere," Nimwen said as she looked around.

"Well, it's not exactly something you can box up," Leliana explained as she pulled something from her satchel.

Lorien gasped. "Nug!" she squealed as the Divine presented her with a baby nug.

"He is one from our latest litter," Leliana smiled as she adjusted the red bow tied around the nuglet's belly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Lorien grinned as she snuggled the tiny creature.

Dirthamen felt warmth spread through his heart as he watched his sister and the little nuglet.

Fear snapped his beak. "What could she possibly want with food?"

"Shush," Dirthamen scolded the demon.

"You be… Nummy!" Lori declared.

The newly dubbed Nummy gave a snort in reply.

"That's a fine name," Nimwen said. With Lorien occupied with her new pet, Nimwen went ahead and opened an intricately wrapped gilded box, no doubt from Vivienne. "Oh, Solas, look at this," Nimwen said as she held up the tiny ball gown.

Dirthamen coughed, holding back laughter at Sola's almost blank expression. Nimwen did know Solas wasn't the one to go talk to clothes with even clothes meant for his daughter. Yet, still it was funny watching Solas's expression.

"It's lovely," Solas seemed to chose his words carefully.

"Thank you very much, Vivienne," Nimwen said.

"You're quite welcome, darling," the enchantress replied.

"Okay what's left? We have…"

Dirthamen watched as Nimwen picked up a familiar box. A flash of emotions passed over the woman's face as she stared at the gift.

Sorrow filled Dirthamen at the sight of her pain. " _Ir abelas_ , Lady Nimwen," he whispered.

"Look, _da'len_ , it's Mahvir's gift," Nimwen said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Mahvy!" After setting Nummy beside her in her chair, Lorien snatched up the gift and began to open it. "Lookit, lookit, he make wolf!" Lori said as she lifted up the golden wolf.

"It's very pretty," Nimwen said.

"Lookit, daddy, he make me wolf!" Lori said, thrusting the wolf in Solas's face.

"I see that, _da'vhenan_." There was a softness which filled Solas's voice, but didn't get rid of the suspicion Dirthamen could see in Solas's pale gaze.

Dirthamen backed a little further into the shadows. It was just a toy and, yet, Solas seemed to think Dirthamen would harm his precious sister with a toy. Pain stabbed Dirthamen's heart.

"Now, Burton have friend," Lorien said as she pulled out a familiar raven from her pocket. "Burton meet friend, Rupert," Lorien giggled as she made her toys face each other.

Perhaps he should have made the wolf male, but then that wouldn't have been appropriate for a three year old. Dirthamen managed a small smile, but his eyes flickered to Solas who was watching Lorien.

"Rupert?" Nimwen chuckled with a raised brow. "Where does she get these names from do you think, _vhenan_?"

"Perhaps too much time with Master Tethras," Solas joked, but his eyes didn't leave Lorien or the toys.

"Hmm, what's this? There's something else in here, Lori," Nimwen said with faux shock.

"Hmm?" Like a quisitive puppy, Lorien peered inside the box to see its remaining contents. "What that?"

"Why, I do believe it's a puzzle," Nimwen said as she lifted out the puzzle.

"It wolfs," Lorien stated as she pointed to the picture.

Dirthamen smiled, ignoring Solas completely now. He didn't care right then Solas thought there might some trick or trap to the gifts. All that mattered was Lorien's bright, smiling face.

"Happy birthday, Princess," Dirthamen whispered.

"Pretty," Lorien cooed as her little finger traced one of the flowers Dirthamen had carved into the frame holding the puzzle together.

"Mahvir worked very hard on it for you," said Nimwen.

Lorien tilted her head back. " _Ma serannas,_ Mahvy!" she shouted to the sky. "Think he hear me?" she asked her parents, eyes hopeful.

"I'm sure he did," Nimwen replied, her smile twitching.

"If not, than the Cathedral at least knows you thanked him," Solas said with a small smile.

Nimwen jabbed him with her elbow. "Okay, Thom, got that cake cut?"

"Got some pieces right here," the warrior said as he came in with plates of cake.

"Cake!" Deceit wiggled out of Dirthamen's bag and hopped down.

"Deceit!" Dirthamen hissed.

The raven hopped out of their hiding place and took the sky.

"Deceit," Dirthamen hissed again. He staggered as he tried to use his magic to get her back. He placed weight on his bad leg and ended up falling instead. his staff clattered to the ground. " _Fenedhis_ ," he spat. That damned demon!

Dirthamen stanched up his staff and pushed himself further back into the shadows. He knew Lorien had seen Deceit and, then, his staff and hoped the future she alerted others wasn't the one which would happen.

"Cake, cake."

Dirthamen could just see Deceit dipping her beak into a slice of cake by Thom. He groaned.

"What the blasted?" Thom sputtered as he tried batting away the bird.

"Was that a bird?" Vivienne asked.

"Want me to shoot it?" Sera offered, a hand on her bow.

"No, no, we swore we wouldn't kill anything today!" Nimwen insisted.

"Looky, Nummy, birdie," Lorien giggled.

Deceit let out a shocked caw as Thom batted at her. "Rude!" She flew higher.

Solas stood, eyes narrowed.

Deceit dived back at the cake. "One slice and I'm gone, Mortal, give it!"

Dirthamen groaned and buried his face in his palms. He didn't have the energy to stop what was going to happen next.

"She's not getting all the cake!" Fear launched himself into the air and raced over to Thom as well.

"It's mine, Oaf!" Deceit snapped at him.

The two ravens collided over Thom's head. They managed to grab a slice each before breaking apart. They spat insults at one another, dropping pieces of cake on Thom's head.

"What in Andraste's name?!" Cassandra stood up and began waving at the birds. "Shoo, shoo!"

"Throw a book at them," Sera yelled.

The Iron Bull burst into laughter at the Seeker's attempts to scare off the ravens.

"We aren't birds. We want cake!" Deceit cried. "Dirthy, make them understand!" She dove for the ground and flew across the table, trying to dodge Cassandra's swipes at her. She landed on Varric's shoulder. She prend a little.

"Huh, this one's white," Varric said.

"Don't just stand there, get it," Cassandra snapped.

"Relax, Seeker, you don't have to respond to every problem by punching it," Varric chuckled. He turned to Deceit. "I think it likes me."

"Words hold me with every page, want to see him, talk to him," Cole cryptically responded. "Finally, he's within my grasp, I've never been so happy."

"Who are you talking about, Cole?" Cullen asked.

"What in blazes is going on? Someone fill me in!" Dorian demanded from the crystal.

That was right Cole had been a Spirit of Compassion. Well, so much for that, but Dirthamen certainly wasn't moving from his hiding place.

Deceit puffed out her chest a little. "More romances, please? You're romances are brilliant!" She blinked at Cole. "Compassion, can you translate my thoughts again? Dirthy won't let me speak!"

Cole cocked his head, as if trying to better understand her.

"Deceit?" Nimwen stood there in shock. "Is that you?"

"Who?" asked Vivienne.

"Mortal Soft Shoulder, help!" Fear landed on Nimwen's shoulder and stuck his beak into her hair to hide from Cassandra.

Solas was eyeing the birds, his eyes intense. Dirthamen knew the moment the birds moved from Solas's love and from Varric, Solas would attack them.

"Fear?!" Nimwen gasped, trying to get the demon out of her hair.

" _Fear, Deceit, really_?" Dirthamen asked through his connection with the birds. " _And Fear, get your beak out of Lady Nimwen's hair_."

Fear removed his beak and blinked at Nimwen. He fluffed his feather and settled himself on her shoulder. "Cake?" He pointed at the cake with his beak.

"If you're here, then he…" Nimwen began to look around as if expecting Dirthamen to be sitting at one of the tables. "Where is he?" she asked Fear.

Fear cocked his head. "Well, you can't understand me, Dirthamen is blocking our speech. But if you must know… Cake first!" He jabbed his beak towards the cake again and, then, glared at Nimwen.

Dirthamen felt somebody poke his shoulder. " _Aneth ara,_ Princess Lorien." He looked down to see Lorien standing beside him. He gave her a soft smile.

She beamed up at him, pure joy on her face. "It came true!" she whispered happily. "I blow candles and wish you come, and it work!" She hugged his waist.

Dirthamen stroked her hair. "How have you been, Princess?"

"Good, I _tan_ now," she said, showing him three fingers.

Dirthamen chuckled. "Yes, you are. Happy birthday, sister." He straightened a little. "I can't stay long," he told her.

"Why not?" Lorien pouted. "You no see Nummy. He wanna meet you."

" _Ir abelas_ , Princess, but I must return to my own child soon. He's very sick and I can't be away long. I came to see you today and wish you happy birthday." He looked at her and smiled a little wider. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I keep it," Lorien nodded.

"Good. About half a year from now, our family will be together again. Perhaps, Solas will be a little happier then. Until then, know I love you and that I am also staying away because I don't want you and Lady Nimwen caught between Solas and me fighting." He sooth her hair. "I know fighting is bad, but sometimes anger clouds better judgement."

"So, you go?" Lorien frowned. "You come next birthday?"

"I will." Dirthamen moved a little. "Until then, may your dreams be guarded, Princess." He lifted his hand and time stood still. Dirthamen pulled himself to his feet and limped from his sister and the party. Time resumed when he was out of the cathedral. " _Fear, Deceit, enough games, we're leaving_."

" _But, cake_?" Fear whined in Dirthamen's mind.

" _And I just met Vair-Vair. You're not even letting me talk to him_."

" _Now_!" Dirthamen looked to the sky and saw the two ravens driving towards him.

"You're such a slave driver," Deceit complained as she landed on his staff.

"We didn't get more than a mouthful of that cake." Fear's talons dug into his shoulder.

Dirthamen ignored them and limped off into the crowd.

* * *

 **Flamewing:** I want to go cry in a corner. Book 1 is done. But you heard right, this is only book 1. We are working on the third book to this series and will start posting book 2 on my account soon. So, those of you hoping to see what happens next, hop over to my page (Flamewing80) and keep an eye out for _Heart of the People_.

 **HerenyaHope:** I can't believe it's done. I'm not prepared for this *sob* but worry not dear readers, as my companion said, we have a sequel that shall be posted on Flame's account, so if you want to continue on this crazy train go check out Heart of the People on Flamewing80. Also just check out Flamewing80's page in general, some good stuff there if I do say so myself haha. I just want to say again how thankful Flame and I am to all of you who have followed our story for so long. You guys are the best :0)


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